/-  -^r 


THE  BRITISH   POETS,      ^/^ 

LITTLE,    BROWN    AND    COMPANY. 

A    COMPLETE    COLLECTION,  /'/        ' 

FROM   CHAUCER   TO   WORDSWORTH,  /  6(o  3 

Handsomely    Piiuted    in    neat    IGmo.    Volumes.         ^,    / 


j 

■^nce  75 

tents  pel 

Volume,  in  Lloth : 

$1.75  in  m 

Ip  $1.50 

in  lialf  calf  binding. 

The  follmving 

volumes 

are  already  issued :  — 

_ 

Akekside     . 

1vol.  • 

Marvell 

1vol. 

Ballafis  . 

, 

8  vols. 

Milton 

.     3  vols. 

Beattie 

. 

1  vol. 

Montgomery 

5    " 

Burns 

,               J 

3  vols. 

Moore     . 

.    6    " 

Butler. 

, 

2    " 

PaRNELL  &  TlCKELL 

1  vol. 

BVROX 

,               , 

10    " 

Pope 

.    3  vols. 

Cajiphell     . 

1vol. 

Prior  . 

2    " 

Chatterton 

2  vols. 

Scott 

.    9    " 

Churchill 

3    " 

Shakespeare 

1vol. 

Coleridge 

3    " 

Shelley  . 

.    3  vols. 

Collins 

,               ^ 

1  vol 

Skelton 

3    '■ 

COWI'ER      . 

3  vols. 

Sooth EY  . 

.  10    " 

DOXNE 

1vol. 

Spenser 

5    " 

Dryden    . 

^ 

5  vols. 

Surrey    . 

.    1vol. 

Falconer 

,               , 

1  vol. 

Swift   . 

3  vols 

Gay 

, 

2  vols. 

Thomson 

.    2    " 

Goldsmith 

', 

1vol. 

Vaoghan 

1  vol. 

Gray 

1     " 

Watts 

.     1    ■' 

IIkrbert 

•               *               • 

1     " 

White 

1    •' 

Herrick   . 

• 

2  vols. 

Wordsworth  . 

.     7  vols 

Hood    . 

•               ■               • 

4    " 

Wyatt          , 

1vol. 

Keats 

1vol. 

Young     . 

.    2  vols 

Each 

work  sr 

Id  separately. 

This  Collection,  of  which  one  hundred  and  twenty -eight 
volumes  are  already  issued,  is  intended  to  embrace  the 
works  of  the  most  distinguished  authors,  from  Ciiaucer  to 
Wordsworth,  with  selections  from  the  minor  poets ;  accom- 
panied with  biographical,  historical,  and   critical   notices 


THE    BRITISH    POETS. 


and  portraits,  —  the  whole  forming  a  far  more  complete, 
elegant,  and  cheap  edition  of  the  British  Poets  than  has 
ever  appeared  before. 

The  numerous  testimonials  to  the  excellence  of  this 
series,  which  the  publishers  have  received,  both  from  the 
press  and  the  public,  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  would 
seem  to  indicate  that  a  popular  want  has  been  met  by  this 
edition,  which  is  universally  acknowledged  to  be  the  best 
ever  issued,  both  in  point  of  editorship  and  mechanical 
execution. 

Notices  of  the  Press. 

"  We  cannot  speak  too  highly  in  praise  of  this  edition  — 
the  only  one  that  deserves  the  name  of  'complete'  —  of 
the  British  Poets." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  We  really  know  nothing  more  worthy  of  the  cordial 
support  of  the  American  public  than  the  Boston  edition  of 
the  English  Poets." — New  York  Times. 

"  A  fairer  printed,  a  more  tasteful,  or  more  valuable  set 
of  books,  cannot  be  placed  in  any  library." — New  York 
Courier  and  Inquirer, 

"  The  best,  the  most  permanently  valuable,  the  most  con- 
venient, and  the  cheapest  edition  of  the  standard  poetical 
literature  of  Great  Britain  ever  published." — Home  Journal. 

"  We  regard  it  as  the  most  beautiful  and  convenient  li- 
brary edition  of  the  British  Poets  yet  published."  —  Phila- 
delphia Evening  Bulletin. 

"  We  do  not  know  any  other  edition  of  the  English  Poets 
which  combines  so  much  excellence."  —  Bibliotheca  Sacra. 

"  Of  the  typographical  beauty  and  literary  accuracy  of 
this  edition,  the  most  flattering  things  have  been  said  by 
the  most  competent  authorities,  and  we  have  rarely  wit- 
nessed such  complete  unanimity  among  critics  as  this  Bos- 
ton enterprise  has  elicited."  —  Ballou's  Pictorial. 


THE  BRITISH  ESSAYISTS, 

PUBLISHED   BT 

LITTLE,   BROWN    AND    COMPANY 

110  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON. 


THE   BRITISH   ESSAYISTS; 

WITH    PREFACES,    HISTORICAL    AND    BIOGRAPHICAL, 

BY  A.  CHALMERS,  F.S.A. 

In  38  vols.  16mo. 


Tatler, 

Adventurer, 

Mirror, 

Spectator, 

World, 

Lounger, 

Guardian, 

Connoisseur, 

Observer, 

Kambleb, 

Idler, 
Index. 

Looker-on. 

The  volumes  are  the  exact  size  and  style  of 
Little,  Brown  &  Co.'s  edition  of  the  "  British 
Poets,"  and  sold  at  the  same  price,  —  seventy-five 
cents  per  volume,  in  cloth. 

(For  sale  also  in  full  calf  and  half  calf  binding.) 
The  want  of  a  neat  and  uniform  edition  of  these  Essays, 
the  productions  of  the  best  writers  of  the  English  tongue, 
has  long  been  felt,  and  the  present  issue  is  intended  to 
supply  the  deficiency 

The  volumes  are  of  convenient  size,  handsomely  printed 
from  the  last  English  edition,  and  the  price  is  such  as  to 
recommend  them  to  the  favor  of  the  public,  and  especially 
of  those  who  are  engaged  in  making  selections  for  school 
and  college  libraries. 

Notices  of  the  Press. 

"  These  works,  the  flower  of  the  best  English  literature 
for  a  century,  merit  a  place  in  every  library;     They  have 


THE    BRITISH    ESSAYISTS. 


borne  a  large  office  in  the  culture  of  mind  and  style  for 
past  generations,  and  for  our  elders  now  upon  the  stage ; 
and  we  can  wish  for  those  entering  active  or  literary  life, 
access  to  no  purer,  or  more  copious,  or  more  stimulating 
fountains  of  thought,  sentiment,  and  motive,  than  are 
here."  —  North  American  Review. 

"  The  judgment  of  the  most  competent  and  respected 
authority  has  been  passed  upon  these  works,  and  has  de- 
cided that  they  are  eminently  worthy  of  being  kept  in 
constant  use."  —  Christian  Examiner. 

"  The  value  and  popularity  of  the  works  included  in  this 
series  will  increase  as  those  who  read  the  English  language 
become  cultivated,  and  wish  for  compositions  of  the  high- 
est rank.  For  school  and  family  libraries,  these  books  are 
just  what  is  needed ;  they  are  of  convenient  size,  and  at- 
tractive outward  appearance,  —  their  contents  are  models 
of  composition,  their  spirit  is  liberal  and  manly,  —  their 
tone  and  influence  moral  and  religious,  without  cant,  or  a 
weakness  of  any  kind."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  It  is  superfluous  to  praise  the  Essays,  —  they  are  by  gen- 
eral consent  esteemed  models  of  pure  English  style,  and  are 
full  of  entertainment,  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  moral 
instruction, — they  will  be  read  with  pleasure  as  long  as  the 
English  language  lives."  —  New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  No  greater  service  can  be  done  in  the  cause  of  good 
letters  than  the  extensive  dissemination  of  these  standard 
compositions.  They  embrace  the  best  models  of  style  in 
the  English  language." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  As  models  of  English  prose  they  stand  unrivalled,  and 
deserve  a  place  in  every  library,  public  or  private,  but  es- 
pecially in  every  school  and  town  library  in  the  country." 
—  Boston  Adas. 

"  A  series  of  standard  works,  the  value  and  popularity  of 
which  have  only  increased  with  time." — New  York  'limes. 

"No  more  desirable  edition  has  ever  been  published."  — 
New  York  Evening  Post. 


^oyrr^nJ^  dl^^ 


THE 


POETICAL  WORKS 


or 


SAMUEL    BUTLER 


Y  O  L  U  M  E      I . 


BOSTON: 
LITTLE,   BROWN  AND    COMPANY. 

MDCCCLXIII. 


CONTENTS. 
VOL.  I. 


Page 

To  the  Rev.  William  Lisle  Bowles v 

Memoir  of  Butlek,  by  the  Eev.  J.  Mitford    ....  vii 

Notes xxxvii 

Appendix xli 

HUDIBRAS. 

PartL    Canto  1 3 

Canto  11 43 

Canto  m 92 

Partn.  Canto  1 143 

Canton 177 

Canto  m 209 

An  Heroical  Epistle  of  Hudibras  to  Sidrophel    ....  253 

Partm.  Canto  1 259 


TO  THE  EEV.  WILLIAM  LISLE  BOWLES, 

OANON  OF  SAUSBUKT,  £T0. 


Unhonour'd  lay  poor  Butler's  nameless  grave, 
One  line,  the  hand  of  pitying  friendship  gave. 
'Twas  his  with  pure  confiding  heart  to  trust 
The  flattering  minions  of  a  monarch's  lust ; 
And  hope  that  faith  a  private  debt  would  OAvn, 
False  to  the  honour  of  a  nation's  throne. 

Such  were  the  lines  insulted  virtue  pour'd. 
And  such  the  wealth  of  wit's  exhaustless  hoard: 
Of  keenest  wisdom  dallying  with  her  scorn. 
And  playful  jest  of  indignation  born ; 
And  honest  hatred  of  that  godless  crew, 
To  king,  to  country — to  themselves  untrue: 
The  hands  that  laid  the  blameless  mitre  low, 
That  gave  great  Weutworth  to  the  headsman's 

blow, 
And  theirs  the  deed  immortalized  in  shame, 
Which  raised  a  monarch  to  a  martyr's  name. 

Oh!  friend!  with  me  thy  thoughtful  sorrows 
join, 
Thy  heart  will  answer  each  desponding  line ; 
Say,  when  thy  hand  o'er  Ken's  neglected  grave 
At  once  the  flowers  of  love  and  learning  gave ; 


VI 


Or  when  was  heard,  beneath  each  listening  tree, 
The  lute  sweet  Archimage  had  lent  to  thee : 
Say,  while  thy  day  was  like  a  summer  dream, 
And  musing  leisure  met  thee  by  the  stream, 
Where  thro'  rich  weeds  the  lulling  waters  crept, 
And  the  huge  forest's  massive  umbrage  slept, 
And,  summon'd  by  thy  harp's  aerial  spell. 
The  shadowy  tribes  came  trooping  from  their  cell ; 
(For  still  'twas  thine,  with  all  a  poet's  art. 
To  paint  the  living  landscape  of  the  heart ; 
And  still  to  nature's  soft  enchantments  true, 
Feel  every  charm,  and  catch  each  varying  hue ;) 
Couldst  thou  foresee  how  soon  the  poet's  strain 
Would  wake  its  satire  into  truth  again; 
How  soon  the  still-revolving  wheel  of  time 
Recall  the  past  —  each  folly,  and  each  crime ; 
Again  the  petty  tyrant  boast  his  flame. 
And  raise,  on  fancied  ills,  a  patriot's  name ; 
How  soon  the  tremblmg  altar  fade  away, 
The  hallow'd  temple  prove  the  spoiler's  prey; 
The  throne  its  proud  ancestral  honours  yield, 
And  faction  shake  the  senate  and  the  field ; 
How  folly  seize,  while  bleeding  freedom  wept, 
That  sacred  ark  which  jealous  wisdom  kept ; 
Which,  virtuous  Falkland !  saw  thy  banners  wave. 
Which  Somers  lived,  and  Chatham  died  to  save ; 
While  history  points  her  awful  page  in  vain, 
And  sees  all  Butler  scorn'd,  revive  again. 

J.  M. 

Benhall,  Feb.  1835. 


LIFE  OF   SAMUEL  BUTLER. 

BY   THE    REV.   JOHN    MITFORD. 

Samuel  Butler,  the  author  of  Hudibras,  was 
born  in  the  parish  of  Strensham,  in  "Worcester- 
shire, in  1612,*  and  christened  February  the  14th. 
A.  "Wood  says,  that  his  father  was  competently 
wealthy ;  f  but  the  anonymous  author  of  a  life 
prefixed  to  his  Poems  describes  him  as  in  the 
condition  of  a  yeoman,  possessing  a  very  small 
estate,  and  renting  another;  who  with  difficulty 
found  means  to  educate  his  son  at  the  grammar- 
school  at  "Worcester,  under  ]VIr.  Henry  Bright,  a 
man  of  high  reputation  as  a  scholar,  and  a  Pre- 
bendary of  the  Cathedral.     Butler  is  said  to  have 

*  This  date  is  contradicted  by  Ciiarles  Longueville,  the 
son  of  Butler's  friend,  and  who  declared  that  the  poet  was 
born  in  1600.  Nash  dates  his  baptism  Febmary  8,  1612, 
and  says  it  is  entered  in  the  writing  of  Nash's  father,  who 
was  churchwarden  :  he  had  four  softs  and  three  daughters; 
the  three  daughters  and  one  son  older  than  the  poet. 

t  Dr.  Nash  discovered  that  his  father  was  owner  of  a 
house  and  a  httle  land,  worth  about  10?.  a  year,  still 
called  Butler''s  tenement,  of  which  he  has  given  an  engrav- 
ing in  the  title  page  of  his  first  volume.  A.  Wood  affirms 
that  he  had  a  competent  estate  of  nearly  300?.  a  year, 
but  held  on  lease  of  WiUiam  Eussell,  lord  of  the  manor  of 
Strensham. 


VIU  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

gone  from  thence  to  Cambridge,*  with  the  cha- 
racter of  a  good  scholar ;  but  tlie  period  and  place 
of  his  residence  seem  alike  unknown,  and  indeed 
it  appears  doubtful  whether  he  ever  received  the 
advantages  of  an  academical  education. 

For  some  time  he  was  clerk  to  Mr.  Jefferys,  of 
Earls  Croomb,  in  Worcestershire,  an  eminent 
justice  of  the  peace.  He  employed  the  ample 
leisure  which  his  situation  afforded  in  studv : 
while  he  also  cultivated  the  arts  of  painting  and 
music.  "  The  Hogarth  of  poetiy,"  says  "Walpole, 
"  was  a  painter  too  : "  his  love  of  the  pencil  intro- 
duced him  to  the  acquaintance  of  the  celebrated 
Samuel  Cooper.f  Some  pictures  were  shown  by  the 
family  as  his,  but  we  presume  of  no  great  excel- 
lence, as  they  were  subsequently  employed  to  stop 
broken  windows.  Dr.  Nash  says  that  he  heard  of 
a  portrait  of  Oliver  Cromwell  by  him.  After  this, 
he  was  recommended  to  the  notice  of  the  Countess 
of  Kent,  living  at  Wrest,  in  Bedfordshire,  where 
he  had  not  only  the  advantage  of  a  library,!  but 
enjoyed  the  conversation  of  the  most  learned  man 

*  A.  Wood  had  his  information  from  Butler's  brother; 
some  of  his  neighbours  sent  him  to  Oxford.  Mr.  Longue- 
ville  asserted  tliat  Butler  never  resided  at  Oxford. 

t  Of  our  English  poets,  Flatman  and  George  Dyer  were 
painters.  Pope  also  used  the  brush  under  the  tuition  of 
Jervas.    I  recollect  no  further  union  of  the  arts. 

\  "  Butler  was  not  acquainted  with  the  Italian  poets.  Of 
Ruggiero  he  might  have  truly  asserted  what  he  has  falsely 
told  of  Rinaldo."  —  See  Neve  on  the  English  Poets,  p.  79. 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  IX 

of  his  age,  the  great  Selden.  Wliy  he  subsequently 
left  so  advantageous  and  honourable  a  situation 
does  not  appear,  but  Ave  find  him  domesticated 
under  the  roof  of  Sir  Samuel  Luke,  at  Cople,  or 
Wood  end,  a  gentleman  of  a  very  ancient  family 
in  Bedfordshire,  one  of  Cromwell's  officers,  and  a 
rigid  Presbyterian.  It  is  in  this  place  and  at  this 
time  that  he  is  said  to  have  commenced  his  cele- 
brated poem.  His  pati'on's  house  afforded  him  a 
gallery  of  living  portraits,  and  he  Avas  fortunately 
pei'mitted  to  see  Puritanism  in  one  of  its  strong 
holds.  The  keenness  of  his  observation  secured 
the  fidelity  of  his  descriptions,  and  enabled  him 
to  fill  up  his  outline  Avith  those  rich  and  forcible 
details,  Avliich  a  familiar  acquaintance  Avith  the 
originals  afforded. 

At  the  restoration  of  the  exiled  monarch,  Avhen 
loyalty  expected  the  reAvard  of  its  fidelity  and 
the  recompense  of  its  losses,  Butler  appears  to 
have  suffered  the  same  disappointment  that  met 
other  claimants ;  and  silently  and  unobtrusively 
retreating  from  the  conflict  of  avarice  and  imj^or- 
tunity,*  he  accepted  the  Secretaryship  to  Richard, 

*  It  is  supposed  that  Sir  Samuel  Luke  is  ridiculed  under 
the  character  of  Hudibras:  the  reason  of  the  conjecture  is 
founded  on  Hudib.  P.  i.  c.  1.  ver.  904:  — 

'Tis  sung,  there  is  a  valiant  Mamaluke, 
In  foreign  land  yclep'd — ; 

and  the  ballad  entitled  "  A  Tale  of  the  Cobbler  and  Vicar  of 
Bray,"  in  the  posthumous  works,  p.  285,  but  this  ballad  is 


X  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

Earl  of  Carbury,  Lord  President  of  the  Princi- 
pality of  Wales,  who  made  him  Steward  of  Lud- 
low Castle,  where  the  court  of  the  marches  was 
removed.  About  this  time,  he  married  Mrs. 
Herbert,*  a  gentlewoman  of  good  family,  but 
who  had  lost  most  of  her  fortune,  by  placing  it 
on  bad  securities,  in  those  very  dangerous  and 
uncertain  times.  A.  Wood  says,  that  he  was 
Secretary  to  George,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  when 
he  was  Chancellor  of  Cambridge ;  that  the  Duke 
treated  him  with  kindness  and  generosity;  and 

not  proved  to  be  genuine.  Nash  says,  "  he  was  informed  by 
a  bencher  of  Gray's  Inn,  who  had  it  from  an  acquaintance 
of  Butler's,  that  the  person  intended  was  Sir  Henry  Eose- 
well,  of  Torr  Abbey,  in  Devonshire,"  but  adds,  "  these  would 
be  probable  reasons  to  deprive  Bedfordsliire  of  the  hero,  did 
not  Butler,  in  his  Memoirs  of  1649,  give  the  same  descrip- 
tion of  Sir  Samuel  Luke,  and  in  his  Dunstable  Downs  ex- 
pressly style  Sir  Samuel  Luke,  Sir  Hudibras;  "  the  name  was 
borrowed  from  Spenser,  F.  Q.  11.  i.  17. 

He  that  made  love  unto  the  eldest  dame 
Was  hight  Sir  Hudibras,  an  hardy  man. 

It  is  supposed  that  Lilly  the  astrologer  was  represented 
under  the  person  of  Sidrophel;  though  Sir  Paul  Xeal,  who 
denied  Butler  to  be  the  author  of  Hudibras,  has  been  men- 
tioned as  the  person  intended.  Vide  Grey's  Hudibras,  ii. 
388.  105.  1st  edit. ;  and  Nash's  Hudibras,  vol.  ii.  p.  -308.  That 
Wliaclium  was  meant  for  Sir  George  Wharton,  does  not  ap- 
pear to  rest  on  any  proof;  v.  Biographia,  Art.  Sherborne, 
note  (B). 

*  A.  Wood  says,  that  she  was  a  -vvidow,  and  that  Butler 
supported  himself  by  her  jointure,  deriving  nothing  from  the 
Dractice  of  the  law. 


LIFE    OF    BUTLEK.  XI 

tliat,  in  common  with  almost  all  men  of  wit  and 
learning,  he  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  the  cele- 
brated Earl  of  Dorset.     The  author  of  his  Life, 
prefixed  to  his  Poems,  says,  that  the  mtegrity  of  his 
life,  the  acuteness  of  his  wit,  and  the  easmess  of  his 
conversation,  rendered  him  acceptable  to  all ;  but 
that  he  avoided  a  multiplicity  of  acquaintance. 
The  accounts  both  of  the  patronage  of  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham  and  the  Secretaryship  are  disbe- 
lieved by  Dr  Johnson,  on  the  following  grounds : 
—  "Mr.  Wycherley,"  says  Major  Packe,   "had 
always  laid  hold  of  an  opportunity  which  offered 
of  representing  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  how 
well  Mr.  Butler  had  deserved  of  the  royal  family, 
by  writing  his  inimitable  Hudibras,  and  that  it 
was  a  reproach  to  the  Court  that  a  person  of  liis 
loyalty  and   wit  should  suffer  in  obscurity,  and 
under  the  wants  he  did.    The  Duke  always  seemed 
to  hearken  to  him  with  attention  enough,   and 
after  some  tune  undertook  to  recommend  his  pre- 
tensions to  his  Majesty.    Mr.  Wycherley,  in  hopes 
to  keep  him  steady  to  his  word,  obtained  of  his 
Grace  to  name  a  day,  when  he  might  introduce 
that  modest  and  unfortunate  poet  to  liis  new  pa- 
tron.    At  last  an  appointment  was  made,  and  the 
place  of  meeting  was  agreed  to  be  the  Roebuck. 
Mr.  Butler  and  his  friend  attended  accordingly ; 
the  Duke  joined  them,  but  as  the  devil  would  have 
it,  the  door  of  the  room  where  they  sat  was  open, 
and  his  Grace,  Avho  had  seated  himself  near  it, 


XU  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

observing  a  pimp  of  his  acquaintance  (the  creature 
too  was  a  knight)  trip  by  with  a  brace  of  ladies, 
immediately  quitted  his  engagement  to  follow  an- 
other kind  of  business,  at  which  he  was  more 
ready  than  to  do  good  offices  to  those  of  desert, 
though  no  one  was  better  qualified  than  he,  both 
in  regard  to  his  fortune  and  understanding,  to  pro- 
tect them ;  and  from  that  time  to  the  day  of  his 
death,  poor  Butler  never  found  the  least  effect  of 
his  promise." 

This  story  may  be  believed  or  not ;  to  me,  I  con- 
fess, it  appears  more  like  a  well-dressed  fiction  of 
"Wycherley's  than  the  truth ;  why  the  accidental  in- 
terruption of  the  interview  should  never  after  have 
been  repaired,  does  not  appear;  but  there  is  a 
better  testimony  in  some  verses  of  Butler,  which 
were  published  by  Mr.  Thyer :  "  which  are  writ- 
ten (says  Johnson)  with  a  degree  of  acrimony, 
such  as  neglect  and  disappointment  might  natu- 
rally excite,  and  such  as  it  would  be  hard  to  ima- 
gine Butler  capable  of  expressing  against  a  man 
who  had  any  claim  to  his  gratitude." 

In  1663,  the  first  part  of  Hudibras,  in  three 
cantos,  was  published,*  when  more  than  fifty  years 

*  Some  verses  in  the  first  edition  of  Hudibras  were  after- 
wards omitted  for  reasons  of  state,  as 

Did  not  the  learned  Glynne  and  Maynard, 
To  malce  good  subjects  traitors,  strain  hard. 
Was  not  the  king,  by  proclamation, 
Declared  a  traitor  through  the  nation. 


LIFE    OP    BUTLER.  Xlll 

had  matured  the  author's  genius,  and  given  large 
scope  to  his  experience  of  mankind.  It  was 
speedily  known  at  Court,  through  the  influence 
of  the  Earl  of  Dorset.*  The  king  praised,  the 
courtiers,  of  course,  admired,  and  tlae  royahsts 
greeted  a  production  which  certainly  covered  their 
now  fallen  enemies  with  all  the  derision  and  con- 
tempt which  wit  and  genius  could  command.  In 
1664,  the  second  part  appeared ;  and  the  author,  as 
well  as  the  public,  watched  with  anxiety  for  the  re- 
ward which  he  was  to  receive  from  the  gratitude 
of  the  king  ;  like  the  other  expectants  of  Charles's 
bounty,  which  was  drained  off  into  very  different 
channels,  they  watched  in  vain.  Clarendon,  says 
Wood,  gave  him  reason  to  hope  for  places  and 
employments  of  value  and  credit,  but  he  never 
received  them ;  and  the  story  of  the  king's  pre- 
senting him  with  a  purse  of  three  hundred  guineas 
appears  also  to  rest  on  no  competent  authority. 
To  compensate  for  the  neglect  of  the  court, 
and  of  a  king,  who,  in  truth,  cared  for  no  one 
but  himself,  and  who  possessed  neither  pubhc 
honour  nor  private  principle,  it  is  difficult  to 
say,  whether  Butler  may  have  been  satisfied  with 
the  approbation  of  the  people ;  or  how  far  the  love 
of  his  art,  confidence  in  his  own  genius,  and  a 
natural  fondness  for  a  successful  production,  may 
have  induced  him  to  continue  his  poem ;  certainly 

*  See  Prior's  Dedication  to  his  Poems. 


XIV  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

in  four  years  more  he  published  the  third  part, 
which  still  leaves  the  work  unfinished.  What 
he  ultimately  intended,  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
jecture from  a  narrative  which  has  no  consistent 
plan,  or  progress.  He  may  have  been  wearied 
of  it,  or  he  may  not  have  had  time  to  continue 
it ;  for  he  died  two  years  after  its  appearance, 
on  the  25th  of  September,  in  the  year  1680;* 
and  was  buried  very  privately  by  his  friend  Mr. 
Longueville,  in  the  church-yard  of  St.  Paul, 
Covent  Garden,  at  his  private  expense ;  for  he 
had  in  vain  solicited  an  honourable  and  public 
funeral  in  Westminster  Abbey.  About  seven  or 
eight  persons  followed  his  remains.  His  grave, 
which,  according  to  his  desire,  was  six  feet  deep, 
was  at  the  west  end  of  the  church-yard  on 
the  north  side  ;  and  the  burial  service  was  read 
over  him  by  the  learned  Dr.  Patrick,  then  minister 
of  the  parish,  and  afterwards  Bishop  of  Ely. 
Dr.  Johnson  says,  that  Mr.  Lowndes  of  the 
Treasury  informed  Dr.  Zachary  Pearce,t  that 
Butler  was  allowed  a  yearly  pension  of  a  hundred 
pounds  ;  but  this,  as  Johnson  says,  is  contradicted 

*  A.  Wood  says  he  died  of  a  consumption;  Oldham  says 
he  was  carried  off  by  a  fever;  but  as  he  was  near  foui- 
score,  we  may  be  spared  any  further  investigation.  Mr. 
LonguevUle  says  he  hved  for  some  years  in  Rose  Street, 
Covent  Garden,  and  probably  died  there :  that  notwithstand 
ing  his  disappointments  he  was  never  reduced  to  want  or  beg 
gary,  and  that  he  did  not  die  in  any  person's  debt. 

t  See  Granger's  Biog.  Hist,  of  England,  vol.  iv.  p.  40. 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  XV 

by  all  tradition,  by  the  complaints  of  Oldham  *  and 
the  reproaches  of  Dryden.  About  sixty  years 
after,  Mr.  Barber,  whose  name  is  familiar  to 
all  persons  conversant  with  the  literature  of  that 
tune,  who  was  printer  and  mayor  of  London, 
erected  a  monument  in  Westminster  Abbey  to 
the  poet's  memory ;  the  inscription  will  prove  how 
warmly  he  approved  his  prmciples. 

M.  S. 

Samuelis  Butleei, 

Qui  Strenshami^  in  agro  Vigorn.  nat.  1612, 

obiit  Lond.  1680. 

Vir  doctus  imprimis,  acer,  integer; 

Operibus  ingenii,  non  item  pra;miis  foelix: 

Satyrici  apud  nos  carminis  artifex  egregius ; 

Quo  simulatse  religionis  larvam  detraxit, 

Et  perduellium  scelera  libeiTime  exagitavit; 

Scriptoram  in  suo  genere,  primus  et  postremus. 

Ne,  cui  vivo  deerant  fere  omnia, 

Deessit  etiam  mortuo  tumulus, 

Hoc  tandem  posito  marmore,  curavit 

Johannes  Barber,  civis  Loudinensis,  1721.  t 

*  See  Oldham's  'Satire  agamst  Poetry,'  and  Dryden's 
'  Hind  and  Panther,'  and  Otway's '  Prologue  to  the  Tragedy  of 
Constantine  the  Great.'  Butler  t-wice  transcribed  the  follow- 
ing distich  in  his  Common-place  Book: 

To  think  how  Spenser  died,  how  Cow7e_v  mourn' d, 
How  Butler's  faith  and  service  were  return' d. 

t  In  the  additions  to  Pope's  works,  publislied  by  George 
Steevens,  1.  p.  13,  are  some  lines  said  to  be  written  by  Pope  oa 
this  monument  erected  by  Barber. 

Respect  to  Dryden  Sheffield  justly  paid. 
And  noble  Villars  honour'd  Cowley's  shade. 


Xvi  LIFE   OF    BUTLER. 

After  his  death,  three  small  volumes  were  pub 
lished  bearing  the  title  of  his  posthumous  pieces  in 
verse  and  prose ;  *  they  are,  however,  all  spuri- 
ous, except  the  ode  on  Duval  and  two  of  the  prose 
tracts :  but  the  volumes  subsequently  given  to  the 
world  by  Mr.  Thyer,  keeper  of  the  public  library 
at  Manchester,  are  genuine  f  and  valuable.     "  As 

But  whence  this  Barber?  that  a  name  so  mean 
Should,  join'd  with  Butler's,  on  a  tomb  be  seen; 
The  pyramid  would  better  far  proclaim 
To  future  ages  humbler  Settle's  name ; 
Poet  and  patron  then  had  been  well  pau-'d, 
The  city  printer  and  the  city  bard. 

The  lines  also  by  Samuel  Wesley  are  well  known  (vide  Poems, 
4to.  1736,  p.  62.) 

While  Butler,  needy  wretch,  was  yet  alive, 

No  generous  patron  would  a  dinner  give ; 

See  him,  when  starved  to  death  and  turn'd  to  dust, 

Presented  with  a  monumental  bust. 

The  poet's  fate  is  here  in  emblem  shown. 

He  ask'd  for  bread,  and  he  received  a  stone. 

*  See  Delineation  of  Butler's  Monument  in  Dart's  West- 
minster Abbey,  pi.  3,  tom.  1,  pp.  78,  79.  With  regard  to  the 
monument  erected  in  1786,  when  the  church  was  repaired,  at 
the  expense  of  some  of  the  parishioners,  on  the  south  side  of 
the  church  (inside)  with  the  inscription,  see  Nash's  Life  of 
Butler,  xiii.  See  engi-aving  of  it  in  Nash's  Life  of  Butler,  p. 
xxxix.  An  engi-aving  of  the  monument  in  Westminster  Ab- 
bey is  in  the  same  work,  p.  678. 

f  What  genuine  remains  of  Butler  Thyer  did  not  publish, 
were  all  in  the  hands  either  of  Dr.  R.  Farmer  or  Dr.  Nash,  and 
had  been  seen  by  Atterbury.     See  Life  by  Nash,  xvi.    James 
Massey,  Esq.  of  Rosthern,  Cheshire,  had  Butler's  Common 
place  Book.     Some  law  cases  from  Coke  upon  Littleton,  drawn 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  XVU 

to  these  remains  of  Butler,"  says  Warburton  in 
his  Letters  (cxxxi),  "  they  are  certainly  his ;  but 
they  would  not  strike  the  public,  if  that  public 
was  honest ;  but  the  public  is  a  malicious  monster, 
which  cares  not  what  it  affords  to  dead  merit,  so  it 
can  but  depress  the  living.  There  was  something 
singular  in  tliis  same  Butler ;  besides  an  infinite 
deal  of  wit,  he  had  great  sense  and  penetration, 
both  in  the  sciences  and  in  the  woi'ld.  Yet  with 
all  this,  he  could  never  plan  a  work  or  tell  a  story 
well.  The  first  appears  from  his  Hudibras  ;  the 
other  from  his  Elephant  in  the  Moon.  He  evi- 
dently appears  to  be  dissatisfied  with  it,  by  turning 
it  into  long  verse,  but  that  was  his  forte  ;  the  fault 
lay  in  the  manner  of  telling,  not  but  he  might 
have  another  reason  for  trying  his  hand  at  heroic 
verse  —  emulation.  Dryden  had  burst  out  in  a 
surprising  manner  ;  and,  in  such  a  case,  the  poet- 
ic world,  as  we  have  seen  by  a  late  instance,  is 
always  full  of  imitations.  But  Butler's  heroics 
are  poor  stuff;  indeed  only  doggerel  made  languid 
by  heavy  expletives.  This  attempt  in  the  change 
of  his  measure  was  the  sillier,  not  only  as  he  ac- 
quired the  mastery  in  the  short  measure,  but  as 
that  measure,  somehow  or  other,  suits  best  with 
his  sort  of  wit.  His  characters  are  full  of  cold 
puerilities,  though  intermixed  with  abundance  of 

up  in  Norman-French  by  Butler,  were  bought  by  Dr.  Nash  of 
Butler's  relation  in  Buckinghamshire.  He  had  also  a  French 
dictionary  compiled  by  him,  and  part  of  a  tragedy  of  Nero. 

VOL.   1.  2 


XVIU  LIFE    OF    BUTLER, 

wit  and  with  a  great  deal  of  good  sense.  He  is 
sometimes  wonderfully  fine  both  in  sentiment  and 
expression,  as  when  he  defines  '  the  Proud  Man 
to  be  a  Fool  in  fermentation  ; '  and  when  speak- 
ing of  the  Antiquary,  he  says,  '  he  has  a  great 
veneration  for  words  that  are  stricken  in  years 
and  are  grown  so  aged  that  they  have  outlived 
their  employments  : '  but  the  great  fault  in  these 
characters  is  that  they  are  a  bad  and  false  species 
of  composition.*  As  for  his  editor  he  is  always 
in  the  wrong  when  there  was  a  possibility  of  his 
mistaking.  I  could  not  but  smUe  at  his  detecting 
Pope's  plagiarisms  about  the  Westphalia  hogs, 
when  I  reflected,  that  in  a  very  little  time,  when 
the  chronology  is  not  well  attended  to,  your  fine 
note  about  the  ambergris  wiU  be  understood  by 
every  one  as  a  ridicule  upon  it ;  and,  indeed,  an 
excellent  one  it  is :  notwithstanding,  I  wish  this 
fellow  would  give  us  a  new  edition  of  Hudibras, 
for  the  reason  he  mentions." 

A.  "Wood  ascribed  to  Butler  two  pamphlets, 
supposed,  he  says,  falsely  to  be  William  Prynn's. 
The  one  entitled  "  Mola  Asinaria,"  or  the  unrea- 
sonable and  insupportable  Burden  pressed  upon 
the  Shoulders  of  this  groaning  Nation.  London, 
1659,  in  one  sheet  4to.  The  other.  Two  Letters; 
one  from  John  Audland,  a  quaker,  to  WiUiam 

*  See  some  excellent  observations  on  this  style  of  writ- 
ing in  Eetrosp.  Rev.  vol.  iii.  art.  iv.  '  Fuller's  Church 
History.' 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  XIX 

Prvnn ;  the  other,  Prynn's  Answer ;  in  three 
sheets  in  folio,  1672.  The  author  of  his  life  also 
adds,  that  he  had  seen  a  small  poem,  of  one  sheet 
in  quarto,  on  Duval  the  highwayman,  said  to  be 
written  by  Butler.  These  formed  part  of  the 
posthumous  pieces  above  mentioned ;  to  which 
may  be  added  the  fragment  given  to  Mr  Aubrey 
by  the  poet  himself,  and  printed  by  the  writer  of 
his  life.  It  is  said  that  Butler  did  not  shine  in 
conversation  till  he  had  taken  a  cheerful  glass, 
though  he  was  no  intemperate  drinker.  The  fol- 
lowing story  is  told  in  the  British  Biography :  — 
"  Before  he  (Butler)  was  personally  known  to  the 
Earl  of  Dorset,  that  nobleman  had  a  great  desire 
to  spend  an  evening  with  him  as  a  private  gentle- 
man ;  and  with  that  view  prevailed  on  Mr.  Thet- 
wood  Shepherd  to  introduce  him  into  his  compa- 
ny, at  a  tavern  which  they  used,  in  the  character 
only  of  a  common  friend.  This  being  done,  Mr. 
Butler,  we  are  told,  whilst  the  first  bottle  was 
drinking,  appeared  very  flat  and  heavy,  at  the 
second  bottle  extremely  brisk  and  lively,  full  of 
wit  and  learning,  and  a  most  pleasant  agreeable 
companion,  but  before  the  third  bottle  was  finished 
sunk  again  into  such  stupidity  and  dulness,  that 
hardly  any  body  could  have  believed  him  to  be 
the  author  of  Hudibras,  a  book  aboundmg  with 
so  much  wit,  learning,  and  pleasantry.  Next 
morning  Mr.  Shepherd  asked  his  lordship's  opinion 
of  Mr.  Butler,  who  answered, "He  is  like  a  nine- 


XX  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

pill,  little  at  both  ends,  but  great  in  tlie  middle."* 
Johnson  sums  up  the  personal  history  of  the  poet 
by  saying,  "  In  this  mist  of  obscurity  passed  the 
life  of  Butler,  a  man  whose  name  can  only  perish 
with  his  language.  The  date  of  his  birth  is 
doubtful,  the  mode  and  place  of  his  education  are 
unknown,  the  events  of  his  life  are  variously 
related,  and  all  that  can  be  told  with  certainty 
is  that  he  was  poor." 

A  list  of  the  portraits  of  Butler,  in  pauitmg 
and  engravmg,  may  be  found  in  Granger's  His- 
tory of  England ;  f  a  portrait  of  him  by  Lely  is 
m  the  Picture  Gallery  at  Oxford ;  and  another,  by 
the  same  hand,  formerly  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Longueville,  became  the  property  of  Mr.  Hayter 
of  Sahsbury.  Another  likeness  of  him  by  Zoort, 
was  formerly  in  the  collection  of  the  celebrated 
Mr.  Charles  Jennins.  Several  prints  of  him  by 
Vertue  are  also  prefixed  to  different  editions  of 
his  works. 

The  merit  of  Hudibras  (it  has  been  well  ob- 
served),! certamly  lies  in  its  style  and  execution, 

*  A.  Wood  says,  "  Butler  was  a  boon  and  witty  companion, 
especially  among  the  company  he  knew  well." 

t  See  vol.  iv.  p.  38,  &c.  A  mezzotint  print  of  Lord  Grey 
has  been  altered  to  Butler. 

t  See  Campbell's  Specimens  of  Br.  Poets,  vol.  iv.  p.  205. 
The  principal  actions  of  the  poem,  says  Nash,  are  four.  1. 
Hudibras's  victory  over  Crowdero.  2.  Trulla's  victory  over 
Hufhbras.  3.  Hudibras's  victory  over  Sidrophel.  4.  The 
Widow's  antimasquerade.     The  rest  is  made  up  of  the  adven- 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  XXI 

and  by  no  means  in  the  structure  of  the  story. 
The  action  of  the  poem  as  it  stands,  and  inter- 
rupted as  it  is,  occupies  but  three  days,  and  it  is 
clear  from  the  opening  line,  "  When  civil  dudgeon 
first  grew  high,"  that  it  was  meant  to  bear  date 
with  the  civil  wars.  Yet  after  two  days  and  nights 
are  completed,  the  Poet  skips  at  once,  in  the  third 
part,  to  Oliver  Cromwell's  death,  and  then  returns 
to  retrieve  his  hero,  and  conduct  him  through  the 
last  canto.  Before  the  third  part  of  Hudibras 
appeared,  a  great  space  of  time  had  elapsed,  since 
the  publication  of  the  first.  Charles  the  Second 
had  been  fifteen  years  asleep  on  the  throne,  and 
Butler  seems  to  hav^felt  that  the  ridicule  of  the 
sectaries  was  a  stale  subject.  The  final  interest 
of  the  piece,  therefore,  dwindles  into  the  Widow's 
repulse  of  Sir  Hudibras,  a  topic  which  has  been 
suspected  to  allude  not  so  much  to  the  Presbyte- 
rians, as  to  the  reigning  monarch's  dotage  upon 
his  mistresses.  "Burlesque,"  says  Shenstone, 
"  may  perhaps  be  divided  into  such  as  turns  chief- 
ly on  the  thought  and  such  as  depends  more  on 
the  expression,  or  we  may  add  a  third  kind,  con- 
sisting in  thoughts  ridiculously  dressed,  in  lan- 
guage much  above  or  below  their  dignity.  The 
Splendid  Shilling  of  Philhps,  and  the  Hudibras 
of  Butler  are  the  most  obvious  instances.     Butler, 

tares  of  the  Bear,  of  the  Skunmington,  Hudibras's  conversa- 
tions with  the  Lawyer  and  Sidrophel,  and  his  long  disputations 
with  Ralpho  and  the  Widow. 


XXU  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

liowever,  depended  much  on  the  ludicrous  effect 
of  his  double  rhymes  ;  in  other  respects,  to  declare 
your  sentiments,  he  is  rather  a  witty  writer,  than 
a  humorous  one."  *  The  defect  of  Butler's  poem 
undoubtedly  consists  in  what  has  been  already 
mentioned,  —  the  poverty  of  the  incidents,  and 
the  incompleteness  and  irregularity  of  the  design. 
The  slender  strain  of  narrative  which  is  just  visi- 
ble in  the  commencement,!  soon  dwindles  away 
aud  is  lost.  It  is  true  that  the  poem  abounds  with 
curious  and  uncommon  learning,  with  original 
thoughts,  happy  images,  quaint  and  comic  turns 
of  expression,  and  new  and  fanciful  rhymes.  But 
the  humour,  instead  of  being  diffused  quietly  and 
unostentatiously  over  the  whole  poem,  in  rich 
harmonious  colouring,  is  collected  uito  short  epi- 
grammatic sentences,  pointed  apothegms,  and  un- 
expected allusions.  It  has  the  same  merits  and 
defects  as  a  poem  of  a  very  different  kind  — 
Young's  Night  Thoughts,  —  copious  invention, 
new  and  pleasing  images,  and  brilliant  thoughts  ; 
with  a  want  of  sufficient  connexion  in  the  subject, 

*  Shenstone's  Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  182,  third  ed. 

t  "  Butler  set  out  on  too  narrow  a  plan,  and  even  that  de- 
sign is  not  kept  up.  He  sinks  into  little  true  particulars  about 
the  Widow,  &c.  The  enthusiastic  Knight,  and  the  ignorant 
Squire,  over  religious  in  two  different  ways,  and  always  quar- 
relling together,  is  the  cliief  point  of  view  in  it."  —  (Pope)  v. 
Spence's  Anecdotes,  p.  208.  It  appears  from  some  passages  in 
Warburton's  Correspondence,  that  Gray  did  not  much  admire 
this  poem  of  Butler's. 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  XXUl 

and  progress  in  the  story.  There  is  no  poem  at 
all  resembling  Hudibras  in  character  in  our  lan- 
guage ;  but  parts  of  it  are  not  dissimilar  to  the 
style  and  manner  of  some  prose  writings  of  the  time, 
which  were  published  under  the  name  of  '  Cha- 
racters,' and  which,  like  Butler's  poem,  dazzle 
rather  than  delight  by  successive  flashes  of  wit, 
and  a  rapid  play  of  fancy.  It  may  be  observed 
that  the  defects  and  merits  of  this  work  are  prac- 
tically made  known  by  the  manner  in  which  it  is 
read.  Its  want  of  story  and  incident  seldom  per- 
mits a  continued  perusal;  while  the  abundance  of 
its  wise  *  and  witty  sayings  insures  a  constant  re- 
currence to  its  pages.  As  Uttle  can  be  added  to 
the  character  of  the  work  which  Johnson  has 
given,  and  as  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  hope  to 
express  his  thoughts  in  any  language  but  his  own, 
we  shall  conclude  with  extracting  from  his  Life  of 
Butler  the  following  critical  opinion  of  his  work. 

"The  poem  of  Hudibras  is  one  of  those  com- 
positions of  which  a  nation  may  justly  boast ;  as 
the  images  which  it  exhibits  are  domestic,  the 
sentiments  unborrowed  and  unexpected,  and  the 
strain  of  diction  original  and  pecuhar.  We  must 
not,  however,  suffer  the  pride,  which  we  assume 

*  "  Though  scarcely  any  author  was  ever  able  to  express 
his  thoughts  in  so  few  words  as  Butler,  he  often  employs  too 
many  thoughts  on  one  subject,  and  thus  becomes  prolix  after 
an  unusual  manner."  —  See  Hume's  Hist,  of  England,  vol.  viii. 
p.  337. 


XXIV  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

as  the  countrymen  of  Butler,  to  make  any  en- 
croachment upon  justice,  nor  appropriate  those 
honours  which  others  have  a  right  to  share.  The 
poem  of  Hudibras  is  not  wholly  English ;  the  ori- 
ginal idea  is  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  Don 
Quixote  ;  a  book  to  which  a  mind  of  the  greatest 
powers  may  be  indebted  without  disgrace.  Cer- 
vantes shows  a  man,  who,  having  by  the  incessant 
perusal  of  incredible  tales  subjected  his  under- 
standing* to  his  imagination,  and  familiarized  his 
mind  by  pertinacious  meditation  to  trains  of  in- 
credible events  and  scenes  of  impossible  existence, 
goes  out  in  the  pride  of  knighthood  to  redress 
wrongs  and  defend  virgins,  to  rescue  captive  prin- 
cesses, and  tumble  usurpers  from  their  thrones, 
attended  by  a  squire,  whose  cunning,  too  low  for 
the  suspicion  of  a  generous  mind,  enables  him 
often  to  cheat  his  master. 

"  The  hero  of  Butler  is  a  Presbyterian  justice, 
who,  in  the  confidence  of  legal  authority  and  the 
rage  of  zealous  ignorance,  ranges  the  country  to 
repress  superstition  and  correct  abuses,  accompa- 
nied by  an  Independent  clerk,  disputatious  and 
obstinate,  with  whom  he  often  debates,  but  never 
conquers  him. 

"Cervantes  had  so  much  kindness  for  Don 
Quixote,  that,  however  he  embarrasses  him  with 
absurd  distresses,  he  gives  him  so  much  sense  and 

*  Would  not  "  reason  "  be  the  more  proper  -word? 


LIFE    OF    BTJTLER.  XXV 

vii-tue,  as  may  preserve  our  esteem.  Wherever 
he  is  or  whatever  he  does,  he  is  made  by  match- 
less dexterity,  commonly  ridiculous,  but  never 
contemptible. 

"But  for  poor  Hudibras,  his  poet  had  no  ten- 
derness, he  chooses  not  that  any  pity  should  be 
shewn,  or  respect  paid  him.  He  gives  him  up  at 
once  to  laughter  and  contempt,  without  any  qual- 
ity that  can  dignify  or  protect  him.  In  forming 
the  character  of  Hudibras,  and  describing  his 
person  and  habiliments,  the  author  seems  to  labour 
with  a  tumultuous  confusion  of  dissimilar  ideas. 
He  had  read  the  history  of  the  mock  knights-er- 
rant, he  knew  the  notions  and  manners  of  a  Pres- 
byterian magistrate,  and  tried  to  unite  the  absurd- 
ities of  both,  however  distant,  in  one  personage.* 
Thus  he  gives  him  that  pedantic  ostentation  of 
knowledge,  which  has  no  relation  to  chivahy,  and 

*  "  One  great  object,"  says  Nash,  "  of  our  Poet's  satire,  is 
to  unmask  the  hypocrite  and  to  exhibit  in  a  light  at  once  odi- 
ous and  ridiculous,  the  Presbyterians  and  Independents,  and 
all  other  sects,  which  in  our  Poet's  days  amounted  to  near 
two  hundred,  and  were  enemies  to  the  king ;  but  his  further 
view  was  to  banter  all  the  false  and  erase  all  the  suspicious 
pretences  to  learning  that  prevailed  in  his  time,  such  as  as- 
trology, sympathetic  medicme,  alchymy,  transfusion  of  blood, 
trifling  experimental  philosophy,  fortune-telling,  incredible  re- 
lations of  travellers,  false  wit  and  mjudicious  aflectation  of 
ornament  to  be  found  in  the  poets,  romance  writers ;  thus  he 
frequently  alludes  to  Purchas's  Pilgrims,  Sir  K.  Digby's  books, 
Bulwar's  Artificial  ChangeUng,  Brown's  Vulgar  Errors,  Bur 
ton's  Melancholy,  the  early  Transactions  of  the  Royal  Soci- 
ety, &c." 


XXVI  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

loads  him  with  martial  encumbrances,  that  can  add 
nothing  to  his  civil  dignity.  He  sends  him  out  a 
colonelling,  and  yet  never  brings  him  within  sight 
of  war.  If  Hudibras  be  considered  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  Presbyterians,  it  is  not  easy  to 
say  why  his  weapons  should  be  represented  as  ri- 
diculous or  useless;  for  whatever  judgment  might 
be  passed  on  their  knowledge,  or  their  arguments, 
experience  had  sufficiently  shown  that  their  swords 
were  not  to  be  despised.  The  hero,  thus  com- 
pounded of  swagger  and  pedant,  of  knight  and 
justice,  is  led  forth  to  action,  with  his  Squire  Ral- 
pho,  an  Independent  enthusiast.  Of  the  contex- 
ture of  events  planned  by  the  author,  which  is 
called  the  action  of  the  poem,  since  it  is  left  im- 
perfect, no  judgment  can  be  made.  It  is  probable 
that  the  hero  was  to  be  led  through  many  luckless 
adventures,  which  would  give  occasion,  like  his 
attack  on  the  Bear  and  Fiddle,  to  expose  the  ri- 
diculous rigour  of  the  sectaries ;  like  his  encounter 
with  Sidrophel  and  Whachum,  to  make  super- 
stition and  creduhty  contemptible;  or  hke  his  re- 
course to  the  low  retailer  of  the  law,  discover  the 
fraudulent  practices  of  different  professions. 

"  What  series  of  events  he  would  have  formed, 
or  in  what  manner  he  would  have  rewarded  or 
punished  his  hero,  it  is  now  vain  to  conjecture. 
His  work  must  have  had,  it  seems,  the  defect 
which  Dryden  imputes  to  Spenser,  the  action 
could  not  have  been  one :  those  could  only  have 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  XXVll 

been  a  succession  of  incidents,  each  of  which 
might  have  happened  without  the  rest,  and  which 
could  not  all  co-operate  to  any  single  conclusion. 
The  discontinuity  of  the  action  might,  however, 
have  been  easily  forgiven,  if  there  had  been  ac- 
tion enough;  but  I  believe  every  reader  regrets 
the  paucity  of  events,  and  complains  that  in  the 
poem  of  Iludibras,  as  in  the  History  of  Thucydi- 
des,  there  is  more  said  than  done.  The  scenes  are 
too  seldom  changed,  and  the  attention  is  tii-ed  with 
long  conversation.  It  is  indeed  much  moi'e  easy 
to  form  dialogues  than  to  contrive  adventures. 
Every  position  makes  way  for  an  argument,  and 
every  objection  dictates  an  answer.  When  two 
disputants  are  engaged  on  a  complicated  and  exten- 
sive question,  the  difficulty  is  not  to  continue,  but 
to  end  the  controversy.  But  whether  it  be,  that 
we  comprehend  but  few  of  the  possibilities  of  life, 
or  that  life  itself  affords  little  variety,  every  man 
who  has  tried,  knows  how  much  labour  it  will  cost 
to  form  such  a  combination  of  circumstances  as 
shall  have  at  once  the  grace  of  novelty  and  credi- 
bility, and  delight  fancy  without  violence  to  reason. 
Perhaps  the  dialogue  of  this  poem  is  not  perfect. 
Some  power  of  engaging  attention  might  have  been 
added  to  it,  by  quicker  reciprocation,  by  seasonable 
interruptions,  by  sudden  questions,  and  by  a  near- 
er approach  to  dramatic  sprightliness ;  without 
which  fictitious  speeches  will  always  tire,  how- 
ever sparkling  with  sentences,  and  however  varie- 


XXVUl  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

gated  with  allusions.  The  great  source  of  plea- 
sure is  variety.  Uniformity  must  tire  at  last, 
though  it  be  an  uniformity  of  excellence.  We 
love  to  expect,  and  when  expectation  is  disap- 
pomted,  or  gratified,  we  want  to  be  again  expect- 
ing. For  this  impatience  of  the  preseu.t,  whoever 
would  please  must  make  provision.  The  skilful 
writer,  irritat,  mulcet,  makes  a  due  distribution 
of  the  still  and  animated  parts.  It  is  for  want 
of  this  artful  intertexture,  and  those  necessary 
changes,  that  the  whole  of  a  book  may  be  tedious, 
though  all  the  parts  are  praised. 

"  K  inexhaustible  wit  could  give  perpetual  plea- 
sure, no  eye  could  ever  leave  half-read  the  work 
of  Butler ;  for  what  poet  has  ever  brought  so  many 
remote  images  so  happily  together  ?  It  is  scarce- 
ly possible  to  peruse  a  page  without  finding  some 
association  of  images  that  was  never  found  before. 
By  the  first  paragraph  the  reader  is  amused,  by 
the  next  he  is  delighted,  and  by  a  few  more 
strained  to  astonishment,  but  astonisliment  is  a 
toilsome  pleasure.  He  is  soon  weary  of  wander- 
ing, and  longs  to  be  diverted. 

Omnia  vult  belle  Matlio  dicere,  die  aliquando 
Et  bene,  die  neutrum,  die  aliquando  male. 

Imagination  is  useless  without  knowledge ;  nature 
gives  in  vain  the  power  of  combination,  unless 
study  and  observation  supply  materials  to  be  com- 
bined.     Butler's  treasures  of  knowledge  appear 


LIFE    OF    BUTLEK.  XXIX 

proportioned  to  his  expense.  Whatever  topic 
employs  his  mind,  he  shows  himself  quahfied  to 
expand  and  illustrate  it  with  all  the  accessories 
that  books  can  furnish.  He  is  found  not  only  to 
have  travelled  the  beaten  road,  but  the  bye  paths 
of  literature ;  not  only  to  have  taken  general  sur- 
veys, but  to  have  examined  particulars  with  minute 
inspection.  If  the  French  boast  the  learning  of 
Rabelais,  we  need  not  be  afraid  of  confronting 
them  with  Butler.  But  the  most  valuable  parts 
of  his  performance  are  those  which  retired  study 
and  native  wit  cannot  supply.  He  that  merely 
makes  a  book  from  books  may  be  useful,  but  can 
scarcely  be  great.  Butler  had  not  suffered  life 
to  glide  by  him  unseen  or  unobserved.  He  had 
watched  with  great  diligence  the  operations  of 
human  nature,  and  traced  the  effects  of  opinion, 
humour,  interest,  and  passion.  From  such  re- 
marks proceeded  that  great  number  of  sententious 
distichs,  which  have  passed  into  conversation,  and 
are  added  as  proverbial  axioms  to  the  general 
stock  of  practical  knowledge.  Wlien  any  work 
has  been  viewed  and  admired,  the  first  question 
of  intelligent  curiosity  is,  how  was  it  performed  ? 
Hudibras  was  not  a  hasty  effusion;  it  was  not 
produced  by  a  sudden  tumult  of  imagination,  or 
a  short  paroxysm  of  violent  labour.  To  accu- 
mulate such  a  mass  of  sentiments  at  the  call  of 
accidental  desire,  or  of  sudden  necessity,  is  beyond 
the  reach  and  power  of  the  most  active  and  com- 


XXX  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

prehensive  mind.  I  am  informed  by  Mr.  Thjer, 
of  Manchester,  that  excellent  editor  of  this  au- 
thor's reliques,  that  he  could  show  something  like 
Hudibras  in  prose.  He  has  in  his  possession  the 
common-place  book  in  which  Butler  reposited,  not 
such  events  and  precepts  as  are  gathered  by  read- 
ing, but  such  remarks,  similitudes,  allusions,  as- 
semblages, or  inferences,  as  occasion  prompted, 
or  meditation  produced,  those  thoughts  that  were 
generated  in  his  own  mind,  and  might  be  usefully 
applied  to  some  future  purpose.  Such  is  the  la- 
bour of  those  who  write  for  immortality :  *  but 

*  Butler  crowds  into  his  confined  circle  all  the  treasures 
of  art  and  the  accumulations  of  learning.  He  gives  fuU  mea- 
sure to  his  readers,  heaped  up  and  running  over.  Thought 
crowds  upon  thought,  and  witticism  on  witticism,  in  rapid 
and  dazzling  succession.  Every  topic  and  every  incident  is 
made  the  most  of :  his  bye-play  always  tells.  l\Iany  of  his 
happiest  sallies  appear  to  escape  him  as  if  by  accident.  Many 
of  his  hardest  hits  appear  to  be  merely  chance-blows.  A  de- 
scription of  a  bear-ward  brings  in  a  sneer  at  Sir  K.  Digby, 
and  his  powder  of  sympathy;  and  an  account  of  a  tinker's 
doxy  introduces  a  pleasantry  on  Sir  W.  Davenant's  Gondi- 
bert.  There  is  always  an  under-current  of  satiric  allusion  be- 
neath the  main  stream  of  his  satire.  The  juggling  of  astrolo- 
gy, the  besetting  folly  of  alchymy,  the  transfusion  of  blood, 
the  sympathetic  medicines,  the  learned  trifling  of  experimen- 
tal pliilosophers,  the  knavery  of  fortune-tellers,  and  the  folly 
of  their  dupes,  the  marvellous  relations  of  travellers,  the  sub- 
tleties of  the  school  divines,  the  freaks  of  fashion,  the  fantas- 
tic extravagancies  of  lovers,  the  affectations  of  piety,  and 
the  absurdities  of  romance,  are  interwoven  with  his  subject, 
and  soften  down  and  reheve  his  dark  delineation  of  fanatical 
violence  and  pei-fidy.    *  *  .Butler  was  by  no  means  deficient 


LIFE    OP   BUTLER.  XXXI 

human  works  are  not  easily  found  without  a  pe- 
rishable part.  Of  the  ancient  poets,  eveiy  reader 
feels  the  mythology  tedious  and  oppressive  ;  of 
Hudibras,  the  manners,  being  founded  on  opinions, 
are  temporary  and  local,  and  therefore  become 
every  day  less  intelligible  and  less  striking.  What 
Cicero  says  of  philosophy  is  true  likewise  of  wit 
and  humour,  that  time  effaces  the  fictions  of  opi- 
nion, and  confirms  the  determinations  of  nature. 
Such  manners  as  depend  upon  standing  relations 
and  general  passions  are  co-extended  with  the 
race  of  man ;  but  those  modifications  of  life  and 
peculiarities  of  practice,  which  are  the  progeny 
of  error  and  perverseness,  or  at  best,  of  some 
accidental  influence,  or  transient  persuasion,  must 
perish  with  their  parents.  Much,  therefore,  of 
that  humour  which  transported  the  last  century 
with  merriment  is  lost  to  us,  who  do  not  know  the 
sour  solemnity,  the  sullen  superstition,  the  gloomy 
moroseness,  and  the  stubborn  scruples  of  the  an- 
cient Puritans ;  or,  if  we  know  them,  derive  our 
information  only  from  books,  or  from  tradition ; 
have  never  had  them  before  our  eyes,  and  cannot 
but  by  recollection  and  study  understand  the  hnes 
in  which  they  are  satii'ized.     Our  grandfathers 

in  humour,  but  it  is  cast  into  a  dim  eclipse  by  the  predomi- 
nance of  liis  wit.  His  characters  do  not  show  themselves  off 
unconsciously  as  fools  or  coxcombs :  they  are  set  up  as  marks 
at  which  the  author  levels  all  the  shafts  of  his  ridicule  and 
sarcasm,    v.  Ketrosp.  Rev.  vol.  iii.  p.  333. 


XXXU  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

knew  tlie  picture  from  the  life ;  we  judge  of  the 
life  by  contemplating  the  picture. 

"  It  is  scarcely  possible,  in  the  regularity  and 
composure  of  the  present  time,  to  image  the 
tumult  of  absurdity  and  clamour  of  contradiction, 
which  perplexed  doctrine,  disordered  practice,  and 
disturbed  both  public  and  private  quiet,  in  that 
age  when  subordination  was  broken,  and  awe  was 
hissed  away ;  when  any  misettled  innovator,  who 
could  hatch  a  half-formed  notion,  produced  it  to 
the  public ;  when  every  man  miglit  become  a 
preacher,  and  almost  every  preacher  could  collect 
a  congregation.  The  Avisdom  of  the  nation  is 
very  reasonably  supposed  to  reside  in  the  parlia- 
ment ;  what  can  be  concluded  of  the  lower  classes 
of  the  people,  when,  in  one  of  the  parliaments 
summoned  by  Cromwell,  it  was  seriously  proposed, 
that  all  the  records  in  the  Tower  should  be  burned, 
that  all  memory  of  things  passed  should  be  ef- 
faced, and  that  the  whole  system  of  life  should 
commence  anew !  We  have  never  been  witness- 
es of  animosities  excited  by  the  use  of  mince  pies 
and  plum  porridge,  nor  seen  with  what  abhorrence 
those  who  could  eat  them  at  all  other  times  of  the 
year,  should  shrink  from  them  in  December.  An 
old  Puritan,  Avho  was  alive  in  my  childliood,  be- 
ing, at  one  of  the  feasts  of  the  Church,  invited 
by  a  neighbour  to  partake  his  cheer,  told  him 
that  if  he  would  treat  him  at  an  alehouse  with 
beer  brewed  for  all  times  and  seasons,  he  should 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  XXXlll 

accept  his  kindness,  but  would  have  none  of  his 
superstitious  meats  and  drinks.  One  of  the  pu- 
ritanical tenets  was  the  illegality  of  all  games  of 
chance,  and  he  that  reads  Gataker  upon  Lots, 
may  see  how  much  learning  and  reason  one  of  the 
first  scholars  of  his  age  thought  necessary  to 
prove  that  it  was  no  crime  to  throw  a  die,  or  play 
at  cards,  or  hide  a  shilling  for  the  reckoning. 
Astrology,  however,  against  which  so  much  of 
the  satire  is  directed,  was  not  more  the  folly  of 
the  Puritans  than  of  others ;  it  had  in  that  time 
a  very  extensive  dominion  ;  its  predictions  raised 
hopes  and  fears  in  minds  which  ought  to  have 
rejected  it  with  contempt.  In  hazardous  under- 
takings care  was  taken  to  begin  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  propitious  planet ;  and  when  the  king 
was  prisoner  in  Carisbrook  Castle,  an  astrologer 
was  consulted  what  hour  would  be  found  most 
favourable  to  an  escape.  What  effect  this  Poem 
had  upon  the  public,  whether  it  shamed  imposture, 
or  reclaimed  credulity,  is  not  easily  determined ; 
cheats  can  seldom  stand  long  against  laughter ;  it 
is  certain  that  the  credit  of  planetary  intelligence 
wore  fast  away,  though  some  men  of  knowledge, 
and  Dryden  among  them,  continued  to  believe 
that  conjunctions  and  oppositions  had  a  great  part 
in  the  distribution  of  good  or  evil,  and  in  the 
government  of  sublunary  things. 

"  Poetical  action  ought  to  be  probable  upon 

VOL.  I.  3 


XXXIV  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

certain  suppositions  ;  and  such  probability  as  bur- 
lesque requires  is  here  violated  only  by  one  inci- 
dent. Nothing  can  show  more  plainly  the  neces- 
sity of  doing  something,  and  the  difficulty  of  find- 
ing something  to  do,  than  that  Butler  was  reduced 
to  transfer  to  his  hero  the  tlagellation  of  Sancho, 
not  the  most  agreeable  fiction  of  Cervantes,  very 
suitable  indeed  to  the  manners  of  that  age  and 
nation,  which  ascribed  wonderful  efficacy  to  vo- 
luntary penances ;  but  so  remote  from  the  practice 
and  opinions  of  the  Hudibrastic  time,  that  judg- 
ment and  imagination  are  alike  offended.  The 
diction  of  this  poem  is  grossly  familiar,  and  the 
numbers  purposely  neglected,  except  in  a  few 
places  where  the  thoughts  by  their  native  excel- 
lence secure  themselves  from  violation,  being  such 
as  mean  language  cannot  express.  .  The  mode  of 
versification  has  been  blamed  by  Dryden,  who 
regrets  that  the  heroic  measure  was  not  rather 
chosen.  To  the  critical  sentence  of  Dryden  the 
highest  reverence  would  be  due,  were  not  his  de- 
cisions often  precipitate,  and  his  opinions  unma- 
ture.  When  he  wished  to  change  the  measure, 
he  probably  would  have  been  wiUing  to  change 
more.  If  he  intended  that  when  the  numbers 
were  heroic,  the  diction  should  still  remain  vulgar, 
he  planned  a  very  heterogeneous  and  unnatural 
composition.  If  he  preferred  a  general  stateli- 
ijess  both  of  sound  and  words,  he  can  only  be  un- 


LIFE    OF    BUTLER.  XXXV 

derstood  to  wish  Butler  had  undertaken  a  diffe- 
rent work.  The  measure  is  quick,  sprightly,  and 
colloquial,  suitable  to  the  vulgarity  of  the  words, 
and  the  levity  of  the  sentiments,  but  such  numbers 
and  such  diction  can  gain  regard  only  when  they 
are  used  by  a  writer  whose  vigour  of  fancy  and 
copiousness  of  knowledge  entitle  him  to  contempt 
of  ornaments,  and  who  in  confidence  of  the  novel- 
ty and  justness  of  his  conceptions,  can  afford  to 
throw  metaphors  and  epithets  away.  To  another 
that  conveys  common  thoughts  in  careless  versifi- 
cation, it  will  only  be  said,  '  Pauper  videri  Cinna 
vult,  et  est  pauper.'  The  meaning  and  diction 
will  be  worthy  of  each  other,  and  criticism  may 
justly  doom  them  to  perish  together.  Nor  even 
though  another  Butler  should  arise,  would  another 
Hudibras  obtain  the  same  regard.  Burlesque 
consists  in  a  disproportion  between  the  style  and 
the  sentiments,  or  between  the  adventitious  senti- 
ments and  the  fundamental  subject.  It,  therefore, 
like  all  bodies  compounded  of  heterogeneous  parts, 
contains  in  it  a  principle  of  corruption.  All  dis- 
proportion is  unnatural,  and  from  what  is  unnatu- 
ral we  can  derive  only  the  pleasure  which  novel- 
ty produces.  "We  admire  it  awhile  as  a  strange 
thing ;  but  when  it  is  no  longer  strange  we  per- 
ceive its  deformity.  It  is  a  kind  of  artifice 
which  by  frequent  repetition  detects  itself:  and 
the  reader,   learning  in  time  what  he  is  to  ex- 


XXXVl  LIFE    OF    BUTLER. 

pect,  lays  down  his  book,  as  the  spectator  turns 
away  from  a  second  exhibition  of  those  tricks, 
of  which  the  only  use  is  to  show  they  can  be 
played." 


NOTES. 

Page  ix.  On  Sir  Samuel  Luke  being  represented  by 
Hudibras,  see  Dr.  Grey's  Preface,  p.  iv.,  where  by  a 
reverend  and  learned  person,  Warburton  is  meant  ;  see 
D'Israeli's  Curiosities  of  Literature  (new  series),  vol. 
i.  p.  235,  on  this  point.  The  Grub  Street  Journal 
says,  one  Col.  Rolle,  a  Devonshire  man.  The  old  tu- 
telar saint  of  Devonshire  was  Hugh  de  Bras,  see  Edin- 
burgh Review,  No.  LXVIL  159.  The  author  of  a  cu- 
rious article  in  the  Censor,  No.  XVL  (v.  Gent.  Mag.) 
called  "Memoirs  of  Sir  Samuel  Luke,"  observes.  An 
unauthenticated  story  prevails  that  Butler  once  lived  in 
the  service  of  Sir  Samuel  Luke,  and  has  increased 
with  a  succession  of  writers,  like  a  rolling  ball  of 
snow.  Wood  and  Aubrey,  who  had  both  access  to 
credible  information,  say  nothing  about  it ;  and  it  first 
occurs  in  an  anonymous  life  prefixed  to  his  poems. 
Towneley,  in  his  Memoir,  insinuates  that  he  behaved 
with  ingratitude  ;  '  II  me  semble  qu'il  doit  epargner  le 
chevalier  Luke,  son  bienfaiteur,  que  la  gratitude  et  la 
reconnaissance  auraient  du  mettre  a  convert  centre  les 
traits  de  la  satire  de  votre  auteur.'  But  for  the  climax 
of  this  representation  we  are  indebted  to  the  Edinb.  Re- 
view (Art.  Hogg's  Jacobite  Relics),  in  which  the  critic 
roundly  asserts  that  "  Butler  lived  in  the  family,  sup- 
ported by  the  bounty  of  Sir  Samuel  Luke,  one  of  Crom- 
well's captains,  at  the  very  time  he  planned  his  Hudi* 


XXXVIU  NOTES. 

bras,  of  which  he  was  pleased  to  make  his  kind  friend 
and  hospitable  patron  the  Hero."  Now  (he  continues) 
we  defy  the  history  of  whiggism  to  match  this  anec- 
dote, or  to  produce  so  choice  a  specimen  of  the  human 
nettle ! 

P.  xiii.     Gratitude  of  the  king.]  According  to  the 
verses  in  Butler's  '  Hudibras  at  Court  '  (v.  Remains). 

Now  you  must  know,  Sir  Hudibras 

With  such  perfections  gifted  was, 

And  so  peculiar  in  his  manner. 

That  all  that  saw  him,  did  him  honor. 

Among  the  rest  this  prince  was  one 

Admired  his  conversation. 

This  prince,  whose  ready  wit  and  parts 

Conquer' d  both  men  and  women's  hearts: 

Was  so  o'ercome  with  Knight  and  Ralph, 

That  he  could  never  clear  it  off. 

He  never  eat,  nor  drank,  nor  slept, 

But  Hudibras  stOl  near  him  kept; 

Nor  would  he  go  to  church,  or  so. 

But  Hudibras  must  with  him  go. 

Nor  yet  to  visit  concubine. 

Or  at  a  city  feast  to  dine ; 

But  Hudibras  must  still  be  there. 

Or  aU  the  fat  were  in  the  fire. 

Now  after  all,  was  it  not  hard 

That  he  should  meet  with  no  reward. 

That  fitted  out  this  Knight  and  Squire, 

This  monarch  did  so  much  admire ; 

That  he  should  never  reimburse 

The  man  for  th'  equipage  and  horse, 

Is  sure  a  strange  ungrateful  tiling 

In  any  body  but  a  king ; 

But  this  good  king,  it  seems,  was  told 

By  some  that  were  with  him  too  bold, 

If  e'er  you  hope  to  gain  your  ends, 

Caress  your  foes,  and  trust  your  friends. 


NOTES.  XXXIX 

Such  were  the  doctrines  that  were  taught 
Till  tills  unthinking  king  was  brought 
To  leave  his  friends  to  starve  and  die, 
A  poor  reward  for  loyalty. 

Oldham,  in  his  Satire  against  Poetry,  writes  thus  : 

On  Butler  who  can  think  without  just  rage, 
The  glory  and  the  scandal  of  the  age. 
Fair  stood  his  hopes,  when  first  he  came  to  town, 
Met  every  where  with  welcomes  of  renown. 
Courted  and  loved  by  all,  with  wonder  read, 
And  promises  of  princely  favour  fed. 
But  what  reward  for  all  had  he  at  last, 
After  a  hfe  m  dull  expectance  past. 
The  wretch,  at  summing  up  his  misspent  days, 
Found  nothing  left  but  poverty  and  praise. 
Of  all  his  gains  by  verse  he  could  not  save 
Enough  to  purchase  flannel  and  a  grave. 
Eeduced  to  want,  he  in  due  time  fell  sick, 
Was  fain  to  die,  and  be  interred  on  tick. 
And  well  might  bless  the  fever  that  was  sent 
To  rid  him  thence,  and  his  worse  fate  prevent. 

And  Dryden,  in  the  Hind  and  Panther: 

Unpitied  Hudibras,  your  champion  friend, 
Has  shown  how  far  your  charities  extend. 
Tliis  lasting  verse  shall  on  his  tomb  be  read, 
He  shamed  you  living,  and  upbraids  you  dead. 

P.  XV.  Epitaph  on  Butler,  by  John  Dennis,  never 
before  published,  in  Disraeli's  Curiosities  of  Litera- 
ture (new  series),  vol.  i.  p.  240. 

Near  this  place  lies  inteiTed 

The  body  of  Mr.  S.  Butler, 

Author  of  Hudibras. 

He  was  a  whole  species  of  poets  in  one. 

Admirable  in  a  manner. 

In  which  no  one  else  has  been  tolerable ;       ^ 

A  manner  which  began  and  ended  with  him, 

In  which  he  knew  no  guide. 

And  found  no  followers. 


Xl  NOTES. 

P.  xxiii.  On  the  versification  of  Hudibras,  see  Dry- 
den's  Ded.  to  Juvenal,  1735,  p.  100 ;  to  which  John- 
son alludes.  See  also  Addison's  Spectator,  vol.  i.  No. 
ix.     See  also  Prior's  Alma  (c.  ii.  init.). 

But  shall  we  take  the  muse  abroad, 
To  drop  her  idly  on  the  road  ? 
And  leave  our  subject  in  the  middle. 
As  Butler  did  his  bear  and  fiddle  ? 
Yet  he,  consummate  master,  knew 
When  to  recede  and  when  pursue. 
His  noble  negligences  teach 
What  others'  toils  despair  to  reach. 
He,  perfect  dancer,  climbs  the  rope, 
And  balances  your  fear  and  hope ; 
If,  after  some  distinguish'd  leap. 
He  drops  his  pole,  and  seems  to  slip, 
Straight  gathering  aU  his  active  strength, 
He  rises  higher  half  his  length. 
With  wonder  you  approve  his  slight, 
And  owe  your  pleasure  to  your  fright. 
But  like  poor  Andrew  I  advance. 
False  mimic  of  my  master's  dance. 
Around  the  cord  awhile  I  sprawl, 
And  thence,  though  low,  in  earnest  fall. 


APPENDIX. 

1  Butler's  Hudibras ;  the  first  part  printed  by  T.  G. 
for  Richard  Marriott,  under  St.  Dunstan's  Church, 
Fleet  Street,  1663,  8vo.  p.  268.*  In  the  Mercurius 
Aulicus,  Jan.  1-8,  1662,  is  an  advertisement:  —  There 
is  stolen  abroad  a  most  false  and  imperfect  copy  of  Hu- 
dibras, without  name,  either  of  printer  or  bookseller  ; 
the  true  and  perfect  edition  printed  by  the  author's  ori- 
ginal, is  sold  by  Richard  Marriott,  near  St.  Dunstan's 
Church,  in  Fleet  Street.  That  other  nameless  impres- 
sion is  a  cheat,  and  will  but  abuse  the  buyer  as  well  as 
the  author,  whose  poem  deserves  to  have  fallen  into 
better  hands. 

II.  Hudibras,  the  second  part,  1663.  This  spurious 
second  part  was  published  after  Butler  had  printed 
his  first  part,  and  before  he  printed  the  second,  and  is 
very  scarce.  It  ran  through  three  editions  in  the  same 
year;  the  first  two  do  not  differ  except  in  the  type. 
But  there  was  another  edition  still,  "  Hudibras,  the 
second  part,  with  the  continuation  of  the  third  canto, 
to  which  is  added  a  fourth  canto." 

*  I  have  also  met  with '  Mercurius  Menippeus,  the  Loyal  Sa- 
tirist, or  Hudibras  in  Prose;  written  by  an  unknown  hand,  in 
the  time  of  the  late  rebellion,  but  never  till  now  published, 
1682,'  a  curious  tract. 


xlii  APPENDIX 

Hudibras ;  the  second  part,  by  the  author  of  the 
first  ;  printed  by  T.  R.  for  John  Martyn  and  James 
Allestrey,  at  the  Bell,  in  St.  Paul's  Church-yard,  1664, 
8vo.  and  l2mo.  It  has  on  the  title  page  a  wood-cut, 
with  the  publishers'  device,  a  bell,  and  the  letters  at  the 
bottom,  M.  A.  In  the  Mercurius  Publicus  for  Nov. 
20,  1663,  is  this  very  singular  advertisement :  —  "  New- 
ly published,  the  second  part  of  Hudibras,  by  the  au- 
thor of  the  former,  which  (if  possible)  has  outdone  the 
first."  —  In  the  B.  Museum  (Misc.  Pap.  Bibl.  Birch. 
No.  4293)  is  the  following  injunction  :  —  Charles  R., 
our  will  and  pleasure  is,  and  we  do  hereby  strictly 
charge  and  command,  that  no  printer,  bookseller, 
stationer,  or  other  person  whatsoever,  within  our  king- 
dom of  England,  or  Ireland,  do  print,  reprint,  utter,  or 
sell,  or  cause  to  be  printed,  reprinted,  uttered,  or  sold, 
a  book  or  poem,  called  Hudibras,  or  any  part  thereof, 
without  the  consent  and  approbation  of  Samuel  Bote- 
ler,  Esq.  or  his  assigns,  as  they,  and  every  of  them  will 
answer  the  contrary  at  their  perils.  Given  at  our 
Court  at  Whitehall,  the  10th  day  of  September,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  God  1677,  and  in  the  29th  year  of 
our  reign,  by  his  Majesty's  command.    T.  Berkenhead. 

Hudibras  ;  the  third  and  last  part,  written  by  the  au- 
thor of  the  first  and  second  parts ;  printed  for  Simon 
Miller,  at  the  sign  of  the  Star,  at  the  west  end  of  St. 
Paul's,  1678,  Bvo.  p.  285.  This  part  had  no  notes 
during  the  author's  life,  and  who  inserted  them  after- 
wards is  not  known. 

The  first  and  second  parts  were  republished  in  1674. 
Hudibras,  the  first  and  second  parts,  written  in  the 
time  of  the  late  wars,  corrected  and  amended  with  sev- 
eral additions  and  annotations,  London,  1674,  part  i.  p. 
202;  part  ii.  pp.  223-412. 


APPENDIX.  xliii 

III.  See  some  lines  from  the  first  canto  of  Hudibras, 
admirably  translated  into  Latin  verse  by  Christopher 
Smart,  published  in  the  Student;  or,  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge Miscellany,  published  by  Thornton  in  1750. — 
See  Beloe's  Anecdotes,  vol.  vi.  p.  419.  Some  also  by 
Dr.  Harmer,  Greek  Professor  at  Oxford,  may  be  seen 
in  the  notes  to  the  Biographia  Britannica. 

IV.  Dr.  Grey's  edition  of  Hudibras  was  published 
first  in  1744.  See  on  it  Gent.  Mag.,  1819,  vol.  xii.  N. 
S.  p.  416,  Dr.  Grey's  valuable  but  incorrect  edition. 
In  Grey's  edition  the  Meditations  of  .Justice  Adam 
Overdo  in  the  stocks  are  inserted  from  B.  Jonson's 
Bartholomew  Fair.  The  soliloquy  is  ingeniously  split 
into  a  dialogue,  and  one-half  given  to  Aaam,  the 
other  half  to  Overdo.  The  consulship  of  Julius  and 
Caesar  was  nothing  to  this.  Dr.  Grey  left  large  addi- 
tional notes,  designed  for  a  new  edition,  which  were  in 
the  hands  of  Mr  Nichols.  As  regards  the  posthumous 
works  of  Butler  [v.  Life,  p.  xv.)  it  appears  from  the 
authority  of  Mr.  Thyer  that  very  few  (only  three)  of 
them  are  authentic.  Jacob,  in  hic  Lives  of  the  Dra- 
matic Poets,  p.  21,  says,  "  not  one  line  of  those  poems 
lately  published  under  his  (Butler's)  name  is  genuine." 
See  also  Gent.  Mag.  May,  1819,  vol.  xii.  N.  S.  p.  417, 
and  Thyer's  Remains,  vol.  i.  p.  145,  302,  327.  One 
passage  occurs  in  the  speech  of  tne  Earl  of  Pembroke 
which  is  curious  from  its  strong  verbal  coincidence 
with  a  passage  in  Burke's  will  —  "  My  will  is  that  I 
have  no  monument,  for  then  I  must  have  epitaphs  and 
verses,  but  all  my  life  long  I  have  had  too  much  of 
them,"  V.  Burke's  Will,  in  Bissefs  Life,  p.  578.  "  I 
desire  that  no  monument  beyond  a  middle-sized  tablet, 
with  a  small  and  simple  inscription  on  the  church-wall, 


Xliv  APPENDIX. 

or  on  the  flag  stone,  be  erected  ;  but  I  have  had  in  my 
life  time  but  too  much  of  noise  and  compliment ^ 

V.  John  Townley,  the  translator  of  Hudibras,  was 
an  officer  of  the  Irish  brigade,  and  a  knight  of  the 
military  order  of  St.  Louis ;  he  was  uncle  to  Charles 
Townley,  Esq.  who  possessed  the  marbles  and  statues. 
See  Nichol's  Hogarth,  p.  145,  and  Notice  sur  la  vie  et 
les  ecrits  de  M.  Larcher,  p.  135,  in  Class.  Journal,  No. 
xix.  When  the  critical  reviewers  reviewed  Tytler's 
Essay  on  Translation,  they  would  not  believe  in  the 
existence  of  this  book,  it  was  so  scarce.  See  Beloe's 
Anecdotes,  i.  p.  216,  220.  The  publication  was  super- 
intended by  M.  L'Abb6  Turberville  Needham,  and 
illustrated  with  notes  by  Larcher.  There  is  an  en- 
graving of  Mr.  Townley  by  Skelton,  with  the  follow- 
ing inscription :  — 

Ad  impertiendum  amicis  inter  Gallos 

Linguae  Anglicanse  nonnihU  peritis 

Facetum  poema  Hudibras  dictum 

Accurate,  festiveque  gallice  convertit 

Hie  Johannes  Towneley 

Caroli  Towneley  de  Towneley 

In  agro  Lancastriensi  armigeri  filius 

Nat.  A.  D.  1679.     Denat.  A.  D.  1782. 

Grate,  pioque  animo  fieri  curavit 

Johannes  Towneley,  nepos  1797. 

Reprinted,  Paris,  1819,  12mo.  3  vols,  said  to  be  a  faith- 
ful reprint  with  the  addition  of  notes  by  Larcher,  and 
a  Key  to  Hudibras  by  Zottin  le  jeune,  and  some  account 
of  the  translator. 


APPENDIX. 


xlv 


From  the  Literary  Cyclopcedia,  p.  83. 

VI.  In  estimating  the  poem  of  Hudibras,  we  should 
consider  that  genius  takes  every  variety  of  form,  adapts 
itself  to  every  change  of  circumstance,  and  out  of  every 
object  selects,  according  to  its  purpose,  what  is  most 
essential  to  the  view  of  truth,  the  exhibition  of  beauty, 
or  the  chastisement  of  folly.     There  are  conventional 
notions  on  the  subject  which  would  restrict  the  honours 
of  genius  to  the  few  master  minds  which  have  led  to 
.the  discovery  of  some  great  laws  of  nature,  or  displayed 
the  highest  forms  of  creative  imagination.     But  it  is 
sometimes  as  great  proof  of  genius  to  draw  pictures 
from  daily  and  familiar  life,  and  to  work  upon  its  ele- 
ments, as  it  is  to  soar  above  them ;  and  it  is  still  a 
question  for  the  philosophical  critic  to  decide,  whether 
to  raise  a  gorgeous  pyramid  of  dreams  out  of  the  ab- 
stractions of  thought,  be  a  higher  task  than  to  master  the 
fallacies  of  existence,  and  paint  reality  in  all  its  strange 
and  grotesque  combinations.     The  author  of  Hudibras 
might  alone  afford  scope  to  a  controversy  of  this  nature, 
for  while  he  presents  few,  if  any,  of  those  characteristics 
which  belong  to  the  loftier  class  of  minds,  he  so  wonder- 
fully adopts  whatever  is  to  be  found  in  the  actual  world, 
or  learnt  from  books,  as  to  make  his  memorable  lesson 
against  bigotry  ohe  of  the  most  remarkable  productions 
of  human  ingenuity.     But  whatever  may  be  the  class 
to  which  Butler  belongs  in  the  Temple  of  Fame,  there 
can   only  be  one  opinion  respecting  the  value  of  his 
works,  as  a  rich  collection   of  lively  sarcasms,  often 
intermingled  with  wit,  on  those  errors  and  foibles  of 
human  nature,  which  at  once  verge  upon  extravagance 
and  mischief.     A  practical  observer  of  the  world,  and 
an  active  sharer  in  its  concerns,  Butler  never  forgets  the 


Xlvi  APPENDIX. 

pleasant  and  every  day  character  of  mankind.  His 
mind  was  thoroughly  impressed  with  the  subject  on 
which  he  wrote,  and  that  subject  embraced  the  whole 
circle  of  motives,  which  set  society  in  action  at  the 
period  when  he  lived.  His  wit  is  consequently  often 
spent  upon  follies  which  are  no  longer  conspicuous, 
and  his  experience  made  lessons  which  it  would  now 
be  unprofitable  to  study.  There  is  yet  so  much  im- 
perishable wisdom  in  his  writings  —  so  many  warn- 
ings against  evil  tempers  and  absurdities,  of  which 
the  seeds  have  never  to  this  hour  been  eradicated  from 
human  nature,  that  Butler  may  still  be  estimated  as 
one  of  the  noblest  writers  of  sententious  maxims  to 
be  found  in  the  English  language. 

Vn.     From  Retrospective  Review,  vol.  iii.  307. 

LIST  OF  THE  IMITATIONS   OF  HUDIBEAS. 

1  Hudibras,  second  part London  1663 

2  Butler's  Ghost;  or,  Hudibras,  the  fourth  part     .    .  1682 

3  Hogan  Moganides ;  or,  the  Dutch  Hudibras      .    .    .  1674 

4  The  Irish  Hudibras ;  or,  Fingallian  Prince,  &c.     .    .  1689 

5  The  Wliig's  SuppHcation,  by  S.  Colvil      ....  1695 

6  Pendi-agon ;  or,  the  Carpet  Knight,  his  Kalendar    .  1698 

7  The    Dissenting    Hypocrite;    or.    Occasional   Con- 

formist     1704 

8  Vulgus  Britannicus;   or,  the   British  Hudibras,  in 

fifteen   cantos,   &c.  by  the  Author  of  the  Lon- 
don Spy,  second  edition 1710 

9  Hudibras  Redivivus,  &c.  by  E.  Ward,  no  date. 

10  The   Republican  Procession;  or,  the   Tumultuous 

Cavalcade,  second  edition 1714 

11  The  Hudibrastic  Brewer,  a  satu-e  on  the  former 

(No.  10)       1714 

12  Four  Hudibrastic  Cantos,  being  poems  on  four  of 

the  greatest  heroes 1716 


APPENDIX.  xlvii 

13  Posthumous  Works  in  Prose  and  Verse  of  ]Mr.  S. 

Butler,  3  vols.  12mo.  1720,  and  in  1  vol.     .     .     .    1754 

14  England's  Keformation,  &c.,  a  Poem,  by  Thomas 

Ward 1747 

15  The  Irish  Hudibras,  Hesperi-neso-gi-aphia,  by  Wil- 

liam Moffet,  1755,  a  reprint  of  No.  4. 

16  The  Poetical  Works  of  William  Meston 1767 

17  The  Alma  of  Matthew  Prior. 

For  a  very  judicious  and  elegant  criticism  on  the 
merits  and  defects  of  these  various  poems,  the  reader 
is  advised  to  consult  the  article  in  the  work  from  which 
our  list  is  taken.  The  present  editor,  who  has  care- 
fully read  most  of  the  above  poems,  bears  his  testimony 
to  the  truth  and  justice  of  the  observations  upon  them. 

"  Pope,  in  classing  the  English  poets  for  his  project- 
ed discourse  on  the  rise  and  progress  of  English  Poetry, 
has  considered  Sir  John  Mennis  and  Thomas  Baynal 
as  the  original  of  Hudibras.  See  Dr.  Warton  's  Essays. 
Some  of  these  pieces  certainly  partake  of  the  wit, 
raillery,  and  playful  versification  of  Butler ;  and  this 
collection,  it  is  just  to  remember,  made  its  appearance 
eight  years  before  the  publication  of  Hudibras.  Dr. 
Farmer  has  traced  much  of  Butler  in  Cleveland." 
Musarum  Deliciae,  first  printed,  1655. 


Vin.  An  Epitaph  on  James  Duke  of  Hamilton. 

He  that  three  kingdoms  made  one  flame, 
Blasted  their  beauty,  burnt  the  frame, 
Himself  now  here  in  ashes  lies, 
A  part  of  this  great  Sacrifice : 
Here  all  of  Hamilton  remains. 
Save  what  the  other  world  contains. 


Xlviii  APPENDIX. 

But  (Reader)  it  is  hard  to  tell 
"Whether  that  world  be  Heav'n,  or  Hell. 
A  Scutch  man  enters  Hell  at 's  birth, 
And  'scapes  it  when  he  goes  to  earth, 
Assur'd  no  worse  a  Hell  can  come 
Than  that  which  he  enjoyed  at  home. 

Now  did  the  Royall  Workman  botch 
This  Duke,  halk-English  and  halfe-Scotch  ! 
A  Scot  an  English  Earldom  fits. 
As  Purple  doth  your  Marmuzets ; 
Suits  like  Nol  Cromwell  with  the  Crown, 
Or  Bradshaw  in  his  Scarlet-gown. 
Yet  might  he  thus  disguis'd  (no  lesse) 
Have  slipt  to  Heav'n  in  's  EngUsh  dresse, 
But  that  he'in  hope  of  life  became 
This  mystick  Proteus  too  as  well 
Might  cheat  the  Devill  'scape  his  Hell, 
Since  to  those  pranks  he  pleas'd  to  play 
Religion  ever  pav'd  the  way  ; 
Which  he  did  to  a  Faction  tie, 
Not  to  reforme  but  crucifie. 
'Twas  he  that  first  alarm'd  the  Kirke 
To  this  prepost'rous  bloody  worke. 
Upon  the  King's  to  place  Christ's  throne, 
A  step  and  foot-stoole  to  his  owne  ; 
Taught  Zeal  a  hundred  tumbling  tricks, 

I  And  Scriptures  twin'd  with  Politicks  ; 

I  The  Pulpit  made  a  Jugler's  Box, 

•   Set  Law  and  Gospell  in  the  Stocks, 
As  did  old  Buchanan  and  Knox, 
In  those  dales  when  (at  once*)  the  Pox 

*  The  Pox,  Presbytery,  and  Jesuitisme,  are  of  the  sajtie 
standing. 


APPENDIX.  Xlix 

And  Presbyters  a  way  did  find 
Into  the  world  to  plague  mankind. 
'Twas  he  patch'd  up  the  new  Divine, 
Part  Calvin  and  part  Catiline, 
Could  too  transforme  (without  a  spell) 
Satan  into  a  Gabriel; 
Just  like  those  pictures  which  we  paint 
On  this  side  Fiend,  on  that  side  Saint. 
Both  this,  and  that,  and  every  thing 
He  was  ;  for  and  against  the  King  ; 
Rather  than  he  his  ends  would  misse, 
Betray'd  his  master  with  a  kisse. 
And  buri'd  in  one  common  Fate 
The  glory  of  our  Church  and  State : 
The  Crown  too  levell'd  on  the  ground  ; 
And  having  rook't  all  parties  round, 
'Faith  it  was  time  then  to  be  gone, 
Since  he  had  all  his  business  done. 
Next  on  the  fatall  Block  expir'd. 
He  to  this  Marble-  Cell  retir'd  ; 
Where  all  of  Hamilton  remains 
But  what  Eternity  contains. 

Digitus  Dei,  or  God's  Justice  upon  Treachery 
and  Treason,  exemplified  in  the  Life  and 
Death  of  the  late  James  Duke  of  Hamil- 
ton, whereto  is  added  an  Epitaph  upon  him. 
4to.  London,  1649. 

This  poem  is  ascribed  to  Marchamont  Needham.  It 
is  curious  as  being  much  in  the  style  of  Butler,  and 
being  published  fourteen  years  before  Hudibras  ap- 
peaxed. 

vol.  I.  4 


1  APPENDIX. 

As  it  has  been  said,  on  the  authority  of  Pope,  thai 
Butler  was  indebted  for  the  peculiarities  of  his  style  to 
"  Musarum  Delicias,  or  Wit's  Recreation;  "  and  as 
that  work  is  not  in  the  possession  of  any  but  a  few 
persons  who  are  curious  in  poetry,  it  has  been  thought 
advisable  to  afford  an  extract  or  two  from  it.  It  was 
first  printed  in  1655. 


"  A  letter  to  Sir  John  Mennis,  when  the  Parliament 
denied  the  King  money  to  pay  the  army,  unless  a  priest, 
whom  the  King  had  reprieved,  might  be  executed.  Sir 
John  at  the  same  time  wanting  the  money  for  provi- 
sions for  his  troop,  desired  me  by  his  letter  to  goe  to 
the  priest,  and  to  persuade  him  to  dye  for  the  good  of 
the  army,  saying, 

What  is't  for  him  to  hang  an  houre, 

To  give  an  army  strengthe  and  power  ?  " 


THE  KEPLT. 

By  my  last  letter,  John,  thou  see'st 
What  I  have  done  to  soften  priest, 
Yet  could  not  with  all  I  could  say 
Persuade  him  hang,  to  get  thee  pay. 
Thou  swad,  quoth  he,  I  plainly  see 
The  army  wants  no  food  by  thee. 
Fast  oft'ner,  friend,  or  if  you'll  eate, 
Use  oaten  straw,  or  straw  of  wheate; 
They'll  serve  to  moderate  thy  jelly. 
And  (which  it  needs)  take  up  thy  belly. 
As  one  that  in  a  taveme  breakes 
A  glasse,  steales  by  the  barre  and  sneaks, 


APPENDIX.  11 

At  this  rebuke,  with  no  less  haste,  I 

Trudg'd  from  the  priest  and  prison  hasty. 

The  truth  is,  lie  gave  little  credit 

To  th'  annies  wants,  because  I  said  it; 

And  if  you'll  press  it  further,  John, 

'Tis  fit  you  send  a  learned  man. 

For  thou  vfith  ease  can  friends  expose, 

For  thy  behoof,  to  fortune's  blows. 

Suppose  we  being  found  together, 

Had  pass'd  for  bu-ds  of  the  same  feather 

I  had  pei-chance  been  shrewdly  shent, 

And  maul'd  too  by  the  Pariiament. 

Have  you  beheld  the  unlucky  ape 

For  roasted  chestnuts  mump  and  gape, 

And  offering  at  them  with  his  pawes. 

But  loath  he  is  to  scorch  liis  clawes. 

When  viewing  on  the  hearth  asleep 

A  puppy,  gives  him  cause  to  weep. 

To  spare  his  own,  he  takes  his  helpe. 

And  rakes  out  nuts  with  foot  of  whelpe ; 

Wliich  done,  as  if 'twere  all  but  play. 

Your  name-sake  looks  another  way. 

The  cur  awakes,  and  finds  his  thumbs 

In  paine,  but  knows  not  whence  it  comes; 

He  takes  it  first  to  be  some  cramp. 

And  now  he  spreads,  now  licks  his  vamp. 

Both  are  in  vain,  no  ease  appeares ; 

What  should  he  doe  ?  he  shakes  his  eares ; 

And  hobling  on  three  legs,  he  goes 

Whinmg  away  with  aking  toes. 

Not  m  much  better  case  perhaps, 

I  might  have  been  to  serve  thy  chaps. 

And  have  bestrewed  my  finger's  end 

For  groping  so  in  cause  of  friend ; 

Whilst  thou  wouldst  munch  like  horse  in  manger. 

And  reach  at  nuts  with  others'  danger, 

Yet  have  I  ventured  far  to  serve 

My  friend  that  says  —  he's  like  to  starve. 


lii  APPENDIX. 

"  An  answer  to  a  letter  from  Sir  John  Mennis, 
wherein  he  jeeres  him  for  falling  so  quickly  to  the  use 
of  the  Directory." 

Friend,  thou  dost  lash  me  with  a  story, 
A  long  one,  too,  of  Directory ; 
When  thou  alone  deserves  the  birch. 
That  brought'st  the  bondage  on  the  Church. 
Didst  thou  not  treat  for  Bristow  City 
And  yield  it  up?  — the  more's  the  pity. 
And  saw'st  thou  not,  how  right  or  wrong 
The  Common  Prayer-Book  went  along? 
Didst  thou  not  scource,  as  if  enchanted, 
For  articles  Sir  Thomas  granted ; 
And  barter,  as  an  author  saith, 
Th'  articles  o'  th'  Christian  faith? 
And  now  the  Dh-ectory  jostles 
Christ  out  o'  th'  church  and  his  Apostles, 
And  teares  down  the  communion  rayles. 
That  men  may  take  it  on  their  tayles. 
Imagine,  friend,  Boclius  the  King, 
Engraven  on  Sylla's  sigjiet  ring, 
Dehvering  open  to  his  hands 
Jugurth^  and  with  him  all  the  lands, 
Whom  Sylla  tooke  and  sent  to  Rome, 
There  to  abide  the  Senate's  doome. 

In  the  same  fortune,  I  suppose 

John  standing  in  's  doublet  and  hose ; 

Delivering  up  amidst  the  throng 

The  common  prayer  and  Wisdom's  song 

To  hands  of  Fairfax,  to  be  sent 

A  sacrifice  to  the  Parliament. 

Thou  little  thought's!  what  geare  begun 

Wrapt  in  that  treaty,  husie  John. 

There  lurked  the  fire  that  turned  to  cinder 

The  Church  —  her  ornaments  to  tinder. 

There  bound  up  in  that  treaty  lyes 

The  fate  of  all  our  Christmas  pyes. 


APPENDIX.  liii 

Our  holy-dayes  then  went  to  wrack, 
Our  wakes  were  layd  upon  their  back, 
Our  gossips'  spoones  away  were  lurch'd. 
Our  feastes,  and  fees  for  woemen  church'd ', 
All  this  and  more  ascribe  we  might 
To  thee  at  Bristow,  wretched  knight. 
Yet  thou  upbraidst  and  raylst  ua  rime 
On  me,  for  that,  which  was  thy  crime. 
So  froward  children  in  the  sun 
Amid  their  sports,  some  shrewd  tume  done, 
The  faulty  youth  begins  to  prate 
And  layes  it  on  his  harmlesse  mate. 
Dated 
From  Nymptom,  where  the  Cyder  smiles, 
And  James  has  horse  as  lame  as  Gyles. 
The  fourth  of  May :  and  dost  thou  heare, 
•Tis,  as  I  take  it,  the  eighth  yeare 
Since  Portugall  by  DuTce  Braganza 
Was  cut  from  Spaine  without  a  handsaw. 

J.  S. 

Account  of  Mr.  Samuel  Butler,  from  Auhrey^s  Letters, 
in  the  Bodleian  Library,  edited  by  Dr.  Bliss. 

IX.  Mr.  Samuel  Butler  was  borne  at  Pershore,  in 
Worcestershire,  as  we  suppose ;  *  his  brother  lives 
there  :  went  to  schoole  at  Worcester.  His  father  a 
man  but  of  slender  fortune,  and  to  breed  him  at  schoole 
was  as  much  education  as  he  was  able  to  reach  to. 
When  but  a  boy,  he  would  make  observations  and 
reflections  on  every  thin^  one  sayd  or  did,  and  censure 
it  to  be  either  well  or  ill.  He  never  was  at  the  univer- 
sity for  the  reason  alledged.     He  came  when  a  young 

*  He  was  born  in  Worcestershire,  hard  by  Barton-bridge, 
fi  a  mile  from  Worcester,  in  the  parish  of  S'  John,  Mr.  Hill 
thinkes,  who  went  to  schoole  with  him. 


lir  APPENDIX. 

man  to  be  a  servant  to  the  Countesse  of  Kent,*  whom 
he  served  severall  yeares.  Here,  besides  his  study, 
he  employed  his  time  much  in  painting  |  and  drawing, 
and  also  in  musique.  He  was  thinking  once  to  have 
made  painting  his  profession  .J  His  love  to  and  skill 
in  painting  made  a  great  friendship  between  him  and 
Mr.  Samuel  Cowper  (the  prince  of  limners  of  this  age) . 
He  then  studyed  the  common  lawes  of  England,  but 
did  not  practise.  He  married  a  good  jointuresse,  the 
relict  of  ...  .  Morgan,  by  which  meanes  he  lives 
comfortably.  After  the  restauration  of  his  ma''%  when 
the  courte  at  Ludlowe  was  againe  sett  up,  he  was  then 
the  king's  steward  at  the  castle  there.  He  printed  a 
witty  poeme  called  Hudibras,  the  first  part  A°  166 . 
which  tooke  extremely,  so  that  the  king  and  Lord 
Chanc.  Hyde  would  have  him  sent  for,  and  accordingly 
he  was  sent  for,  (The  L'  Ch.  Hyde  hath  his  picture 
in  his  library  over  the  chimney.)  They  both  promised 
him  great  matters,  but  to  this  day  he  has  got  no  em- 
ployment, only  the  king  gave  him  ....  lib. 

He  is  of  a  middle  stature,  strong  sett,  high  coloured, 
a  head  of  sorrell  haire,  a  severe  and  sound  judgement : 

*  Mr.  Saunders  (y«  Countesse  of  Kent's  kinsman)  sayd  that 
Mr.  J.  Selden  much  esteemed  him  for  liis  partes,  and  would 
sometimes  employ  Iiim  to  write  letters  for  him  beyond  sea, 
and  to  translate  for  him.  He  was  secretairie  to  the  D.  of 
Bucks,  when  lie  was  Chancellor  of  Cambridge.  He  might 
have  had  preferments  at  first;  but  he  would  not  accept 
any  but  very  good,  so  at  last  he  had  none  at  all,  and  dyed  in 
want. 

t  He  painted  well,  and  made  it  (sometime)  his  profession. 
He  wayted  some  yeares  on  the  Countess  of  Kent.  She  gave 
her  gent.  20  lib.  per  an.  a-piece. 

X  From  Dr.  Duke. 


APPENDIX. 


Iv 


a  good  fellowe.  He  hath  often  sayd  that  way  (e.  g. 
Mr.  Edw.  Waller's)  of  quibling  with  sence  will  here- 
after growe  as  much  out  of  fashion  and  be  as  ridicule* 
as  quibling  with  words.  2^'  N.  B.  He  hath  been 
much  troubled  with  the  gowt,  and  particularly,  1679, 
he  stirred  not  out  of  his  chamber  from  October  till 
Easter. 

Hef  dyed  of  a  consumption  Septemb.  25  (Anno  D"' 
1680,  70  circiter),  and  buried  27,  according  to  his  owne 
appointment  in  the  churchyard  of  Covent  Garden  ;  sc. 
in  the  north  part  next  the  church  at  the  east  end.  His 
feet  touch  the  wall.  His  grave,  2  yards  distant  from 
the  pillaster  of  the  dore,  (by  his  desire)  6  foot  deepe. 

About  25  of  his  old  acquaintance  at  his  funeral :  I 
myself  being  one. 

HODIBRAS  UNPRINTED. 

No  Jesuite  ever  took  in  hand 

To  plant  a  church  in  barren  land; 

Or  ever  thought  it  woi-th  liis  while 

A  Swede  or  Russe  to  reconcile. 

For  where  there  is  not  store  of  wealth, 

Souls  are  not  worth  the  chandge  of  health. 

Spaine  and  America  had  designes 

To  sell  their  Ghospell  for  their  wines, 

For  had  the  Mexicans  been  poore, 

No  Spaniard  twice  had  landed  on  their  shore. 

'Twas  Gold  the  Catholic  Religion  planted, 

Which,  had  they  wanted  Gold,  they  still  had  wanted. 

He  had  made  very  sharp  reflexions  upon  the  court  in 
his  last  part. 

*  [Siv.  Edit.] 

t  [Evidently  written  some  tune  after  the  former  part.  E.] 


IvJ 


APPENDIX. 


Writt  my  Lord  (John  *)  Rosse's  Answer  to  the  Mar- 
quesse  of  Dorchester. 

Memorandum.  Satyricall  vvitts  disoblige  whom 
they  converse  with,  &c.  consequently  make  to  them- 
selves many  enemies  and  few  friends,  and  this  was  his 
manner  and  case.  He  was  of  a  leonine-coloured  haire, 
sanguine,  cholerique,  middle  sized,  strong. 

*  [In  the  hand-writing  of  Anthony  k  Wood.  Edit.] 


HUDIBRAS. 


HUDIBRAS. 

PART    I.    CANTO    I. 

THE   ARGUMENT. 

Sir  Hudibras  his  passing  -worth, 
The  manner  how  he  sally'd  forth, 
His  arms  and  equipage  are  shown, 
His  horse's  virtues  and  his  own : 
Th'  adventure  of  the  Bear  and  Fiddle 
Is  sung,  but  breaks  off  in  the  middle.* 

When  civil  dudgeon  first  grew  high, 

And  men  fell  out  they  knew  not  why ; 

When  hard  words,  jealousies,  and  fears, 

Set  folks  together  by  the  ears, 

And  made  them  fight,  hke  mad  or  drunk,  6 

*  A  ridicule  on  Eonsarde  and  Davenant. 

Ver.  1.  Var.  'Civil  fury.'  —  To  take  in  'dudgeon'  is  in- 
wardly to  resent  some  injury  or  affront,  and  what  is  previous 
to  actual  fury. 

V.  2.  It  may  be  justly  said, '  They  knew  not  why ; '  since, 
as  Lord  Clarendon  observes,  "  The  hke  peace  and  plenty,  and 
universal  tranquillity,  was  never  enjoyed  by  any  nation  for  ten 
years  together,  before  those  unhappy  troubles  began." 

v.  3.  By  '  hard  words '  he  probably  means  the  cant  words 
used  by  the  Presbyterians  and  sectaries  of  those  times ;  such  as 
Gospel-walking,  Gospel-preaching,  Soul-saving,  Elect,  Saints, 
the  Godly,  the  Predestinate,  and  the  like ;  which  they  appUed 
to  their  own  preachers  and  themselves. 


« 

4  HUDIBRAS. 


For  Dame  Religion  as  for  punk; 

Whose  honesty  they  all  durst  swear  for, 

Though  not  a  man  of  them  knew  wherefore; 

When  Gospel-trumpeter,  surrounded 

With  long-ear'd  rout,  to  battle  sounded ;  lo 

And  pulpit,  drum  ecclesiastic, 

Was  beat  with  fist  instead  of  a  stick ; 

Then  did  Sir  Knight  abandon  dwelling, 

And  out  he  rode  a-colonelling. 

A  wight  he  was,  whose  very  sight  would  is 

Entitle  him  Mirror  of  Knighthood, 

That  never  bow'd  his  stubborn  knee 

To  any  thing  but  chivalry, 

Nor  put  up  blow,  but  that  which  laid 

Right  Worshipful  on  shoulder  blade  ;  20 

Chief  of  domestic  knights  and  errant, 

V.  11,  12.  Alluding  to  their  vehement  action  in  the  pulpit, 
and  their  beating  it  with  their  fists,  as  if  they  were  beating  a 
drum. 

V.  13.  Our  author,  to  make  his  Knight  appear  more  ridicu- 
lous, has  dressed  him  in  all  kinds  of  fantastic  colours,  and  put 
many  characters  together  to  finisli  him  a  perfect  coxcomb. 

V.  14.  The  Knight  (if  Sir  Samuel  Luke  was  Mr.  Butler's 
hero)  was  not  only  a  Colonel  in  the  Parliament  army,  but 
also  Scoutmaster-general  in  the  counties  of  Bedford,  Surrey, 
&c.  This  gives  us  some  liglit  into  his  character  and  conduct; 
for  he  is  now  entering  upon  liis  proper  office,  full  of  pretend- 
edly  pious  and  sanctified  resolutions  for  the  good  of  his  coun- 
try. His  peregi-inations  are  so  consistent  with  his  office  and 
humour,  that  they  are  no  longer  to  be  called  fabulous  or 
improbable. 

V.  17,  18.  i.  e.  He  kneeled  to  the  kmg,  when  he  knighted 
Mm,  but  seldom  upon  any  other  occasion. 


PART   I.     CANTO   I.  *> 

Either  for  chartel  or  for  warrant ; 

Great  on  the  bench,  great  in  the  saddle, 

That  could  as  well  bind  o'er  as  swaddle ; 

Mighty  he  was  at  both  of  these  25 

And  styl'd  of  War,  as  well  as  Peace : 

(So  some  rats,  of  amphibious  nature, 

Are  either  for  the  land  or  water). 

But  here  our  Authors  make  a  doubt 

Whether  he  were  more  wise  or  stout :  30 

Some  hold  the  one,  and  some  the  other, 

But,  howsoe'er  they  make  a  pother, 

The  diflF'rence  was  so  small,  his  brain 

Outweish'd  his  rage  but  half  a  grain ; 


o 


Which  made  some  take  him  for  a  tool  ss 

That  knaves  do  work  with,  call'd  a  Fool. 

For  't  has  been  held  by  many,  that 

As  Montaigne,  playing  with  his  cat. 

Complains  she  thought  him  but  an  ass, 

Much  more  she  would  Sir  Hudibras :  40 

(For  that's  the  name  our  valiant  Knight 

To  all  his  challenges  did  write). 

But  they're  mistaken  very  much ; 

'Tis  plain  enough  he  was  not  such. 

We  grant,  although  he  had  much  wit,  45 

H'  was  very  shy  of  using  it, 

As  being  loth  to  wear  it  out, 

V.  22.    '  Chartel '  is  a  challenge  to  a  duel. 

V.  23.  In  tills  character  of  Huclibras  all  the  abuses  of  hu- 
man learning  are  finely  satirised :  philosophy,  logic,  rhetoric, 
mathematics,  metaphysics,  and  school-divinity. 


6  HUDIBExVS. 

And  therefore  bore  it  not  about ; 

Unless  on  holydays  or  so, 

As  men  their  best  apparel  do.  6P 

Beside,  'tis  known  he  could  speak  Greek 

As  naturally  as  pigs  squeak  ; 

That  Latin  was  no  more  difficile, 

Than  to  a  blackbird  'tis  to  whistle  : 

Being  rich  in  both,  he  never  scanted  55 

His  bounty  unto  such  as  wanted ; 

But  much  of  either  would  afford 

To  many  that  had  not  one  word. 

For  Hebrew  roots,  although  they're  found 

To  flourish  most  in  barren  ground,  60 

He  had  such  plenty  as  suffic'd 

To  make  some  think  him  circumcis'd ; 

And  ti-uly  so  he  was,  perhaps. 

Not  as  a  proselyte,  but  for  claps. 

He  was  in  logic  a  great  critic,  65 

Profoundly  skill'd  in  analytic ; 
He  could  distinguish,  and  divide 
A  hair  'twixt  south  and  south-west  side ; 
On  either  which  he  would  dispute. 
Confute,  change  hands,  and  still  confute :  ^o 

He'd  undertake  to  prove,  by  force 
Of  argument,  a  man's  no  horse ; 

V.  55,  56.  Tliis  is  the  property  of  a  pedantic  coxcomb,  who 
prates  most  learnedly  amongst  illiterate  persons,  and  makes 
a  mighty  potlier  about  books  and  languages,  where  he  is  sure 
to  be  admired,  though  not  understood. 

V.  63,  64.     Var.  '  And  truly  so  perhaps  he  was, 

'Tis  many  a  pious  Christian's  case.' 


PART    I.     CANTO    I.  i 

He'd  prove  a  buzzard  is  no  fowl, 

And  that  a  lord  may  be  an  owl ; 

A  calf  an  alderman,  a  goose  a  justice,  75 

And  rooks  Committee-men  and  Trustees. 

He'd  run  in  debt  by  disputation. 

And  pay  with  ratiocination : 

All  tliis  by  syllogism,  true 

In  mood  and  figure  he  would  do.  so 

For  rhetoric,  he  could  not  ope 

His  mouth,  but  out  there  flew  a  trope ; 

And  when  he  happen'd  to  break  off 

r  th'  middle  of  his  speech,  or  cough, 

H'  had  hard  words  ready  to  show  why,  85 

And  tell  what  rules  he  did  it  by ; 

Else,  when  with  greatest  art  he  spoke. 

You'd  think  he  talk'd  like  other  folk ; 

For  all  a  rhetorician's  rules 

v.  75.  Such  was  Alderman  Pennington,  who  sent  a  person 
to  Newgate  for  singing  (what  he  called)  '  a  malignant  psalm.' 

Lord  Clarendon  observes,  "That  after  the  declaration  of 
No  more  addresses  to  the  King,  they  who  were  not  above  the 
condition  of  ordinary  constables  six  or  seven  years  before, 
were  now  the  justices  of  the  peace."  Dr.  Bruno  Ryves  in- 
forms us,  "  That  the  town  of  Chelmsford  in  Essex  was  go- 
verned, at  the  beginning  of  the  Rebellion,  by  a  tinker,  two 
cobblers,  two  tailors,  and  two  pedlers." 

V.  76.  In  the  several  counties,  especially  the  Associated 
ones  (Middlesex,  Kent,  Surrey,  Sussex,  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  and 
Cambridgeshire)  which  sided  with  the  Parliament,  committees 
were  erected  of  such  men  as  were  for  the  Good  Cause,  as 
they  called  it,  who  had  authority,  from  the  members  of  the 
two  Houses  at  Westminster,  to  fine  and  imprison  whom  they 
pleased. 


8  HtTDIBEAS. 

Teach  nothing  but  to  name  his  tools.  90 

But,  when  he  pleas'd  to  show  't,  his  speech, 

Li  loftiness  of  sound,  was  rich  j 

A  Babylonish  dialect. 

Which  learned  pedants  much  affect ; 

It  was  a  party-colour'd  dress  95 

Of  patch'd  and  pyebald  languages  ; 

'Twas  English  cut  on  Greek  and  Latin, 

Like  fustian  heretofore  on  satin  ; 

It  had  an  odd  promiscuous  tone. 

As  if  h'  had  talk'd  three  parts  in  one ;  loo 

Which  made  some  think,  when  he  did  gabble, 

Th'  had  heard  three  labourers  of  Babel, 

Or  Cerberus  himself  pronounce 

A  leash  of  languages  at  once. 

This  he  as  volubly  would  vent,  106 

As  if  his  stock  would  ne'er  be  spent : 

And  truly,  to  support  that  charge, 

He  had  supplies  as  vast  and  large ; 

For  he  could  coin  or  counterfeit 

New  words  with  little  or  no  wit ;  no 

Words  so  debas'd  and  hard,  no  stone 

Was  hard  enough  to  touch  them  on ; 

And  when  with  hasty  noise  he  spoke  'em, 

The  ignorant  for  current  took  'em  ; 

V.  109.  The  Presbyterians  coined  a  great  number,  such  as 
Out-goings,  Carrjdngs-on,  Nothingness,  Workings-out,  Gos- 
pel-walking-times, &c.  which  we  shall  meet  with  hereafter 
in  the  speeches  of  the  Knight  and  Squire,  and  others,  in  this 
Poem ;  for  which  they  are  bantered  by  Sir  Jolm  Birkenhead. 


PART    I.     CANTO    I.  9 

That  had  the  orator,  who  once  ,js 

Did  fill  his  mouth  with  pebble  stones 

When  he  harangu'd,  but  known  his  phrase, 

He  would  have  us'd  no  other  ways. 

In  mathematics  he  was  greater 

Than  Tycho  Brahe  or  Erra  Pater ;  jan 

For  he,  by  geometric  scale. 

Could  take  the  size  of  pots  of  ale ; 

Resolve  by  sines  and  tangents  straight 

If  bread  or  butter  wanted  weiffht ; 

And  wisely  tell  what  hour  o'  th'  day  125 

The  clock  does  strike,  by  Algebra. 

Beside,  he  was  a  shrewd  philosopher, 

And  had  read  ev'ry  text  and  gloss  over ; 

Whate'er  the  crabbed'st  author  hath, 

He  understood  b'  implicit  faith :  130 

Whatever  sceptic  could  enquire  for, 

For  ev'ry  why  he  had  a  wherefore ; 

Knew  more  than  forty  of  them  do, 

As  far  as  words  and  terms  could  jro ; 

All  which  he  understood  by  rote,  135 

And,  as  occasion  serv'd,  would  quote ; 

No  matter  whether  right  or  wrong ; 

They  might  be  either  said  or  sung. 

His  notions  fitted  things  so  well, 

V.  115.    Demosthenes  is  here  meant,  who  had  a  defect  in 
his  speech. 

V.  120.     An  eminent  Danish  mathematician ;  and  Wilham 
Lilly,  the  famous  astrologer  of  those  times. 

V.  131.     Var.  '  Inquere.' 
VOL.  r.  6 


10  HUDIBRAS. 

That  which  wa-3  which  he  could  not  tell,  140 

But  oftentimes  mistook  the  one 

For  th'  other,  as  great  clerks  have  done ; 

He  could  reduce  all  things  to  acts, 

And  knew  their  natures  by  absti'acts ; 

Where  Entity  and  Quiddity,  ua 

The  ghosts  of  deftinct  bodies,  fly ; 

Where  truth  in  person  does  appear, 

Like  words  congeal'd  in  northern  air. 

He  knew  what's  what,  and  that's  as  high 

As  metaphysic  wit  can  fly  :  150 

In  school-divinity  as  able 

As  he  that  hight  Irrefragable ; 

A  second  Thomas,  or,  at  once 

To  name  them  all,  another  Dunce : 

V.  145.     Var.  '  He'd  tell  where  Entity  and  Quiddity.' 

V.  152.  Alexander  Hales  was  born  in  Gloucestershire,  and 
flourished  about  the  year  1236,  at  the  time  when  what  was 
called  School-divinity  was  much  in  vogue;  in  which  science 
he  was  so  deeply  read,  that  he  was  called  '  Doctor  Irrefraga- 
bilis ; '  that  is,  the  '  Invincible  Doctor,'  whose  arguments  could 
not  be  resisted. 

V.  153.  Thomas  Aquinas,  a  Dominican  friar,  was  born  in 
1224,  studied  at  Cologne  and  at  Paris.  He  new-modelled  the 
school-divinity,  and  was  therefore  called  the  '  Angelic  Dpctor,' 
and  '  Eagle '  of  divines.  The  most  illustrious  persons  of  his 
time  were  ambitious  of  his  friendship,  and  put  a  high  value 
on  liis  merits,  so  that  they  offered  him  bishoprics,  which  he 
refused  with  as  much  ardour  as  others  seek  after  them.  He 
died  in  the  fiftieth  year  of  his  age,  and  was  canonized  by  Pope 
John  XXII.  We  have  his  works  in  eighteen  volumes,  several 
times  printed. 

V.  154.     Johannes  Dunscotus  was  a  very  learned  man, 


PART   I.      CANTO   I.  11 

Profound  in  all  the  Nominal  155 

And  Ileal  ways  beyond  them  all: 

For  he  a  rope  of  sand  could  twist 

As  tough  as  learned  Sorbonist, 

And  weave  fine  cobwebs,  fit  for  skull 

That's  empty  when  the  moon  is  full;  16O 

Such  as  take  lodgings  in  a  head 

That's  to  be  let  unfurnished. 

• 
who  lived  about  the  end  of  the  tliirteenth  and  beginning  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  The  English  and  Scots  strive  which 
of  them  shall  have  the  honour  of  his  birth.  The  English  say 
he  was  bom  in  Northumberland ;  the  Scots  allege  he  was  bom 
at  Dunse  in  the  Merse,  the  neighbouring  county  to  Northum- 
berland, and  hence  was  called  '  Dunscotus : '  Moreri,  Bucha/- 
nan,  and  other  Scotch  historians,  are  of  this  opinion,  and  for 
proof  cite  his  epitaph : 

Scotia  me  genuit,  Anglia  suscepit, 
GalUa  edocuit,  Germania  tenet. 

He  died  at  Cologne,  Nov.  8,  1308.  In  the  '  Supplement'  to 
Dr.  Cave's  '  Historia  Literaria,'  he  is  said  to  be  extraordinary 
learned  in  physics,  metaphysics,  mathematics,  and  astronomy; 
that  his  fame  was  so  gi-eat  when  at  Oxford,  that  30,000  scho- 
lars came  tliither  to  hear  his  lectures :  that  when  at  Paris,  his 
arguments  and  authority  carried  it  for  the  immaculate  con- 
ception of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  so  that  they  appointed  a  festi- 
val on  that  account,  and  would  admit  no  scholars  to  degrees 
but  such  as  were  of  this  mind.  He  was  a  great  opposer  of 
Thomas  Aquinas' s  doctrine;  and  for  being  a  very  aCute  logi- 
cian, was  called  '  Doctor  SubtiUs,'  which  was  the  reason  also 
that  an  old  punster  always  called  him  the  '  Lathy  Doctor.' 

V.  155,  156.     Guliehuus  Occham  was  father  of  the  Nomi 
nals,  and  Johannes  Dunscotus  of  the  Eeals. 

V.  157, 158.    Var.  '  And  with  as  delicate  a  hand 

Could  twist  as  tough  a  rope  of  sand.' 


12  HUDIBRAS. 

He  could  raise  scruples  dark  and  nice, 
And  after  solve  'em  in  a  trice ; 
As  if  Divinity  had  catcli'd  !«& 

The  itch,  on  purpose  to  be  scratch'd  ; 
Or,  like  a  mountebank,  did  wound 
And  stab  herself  with  doubts  profound, 
Only  to  show  with  how  small  pain 
The  sores  of  Faith  are  cur'd  again ;  no 

Altho'  by  woful  proof  we  find  , 

They  always  leave  a  scar  behind. 
He  knew  the  seat  of  Paradise, 
Could  tell  in  what  degree  it  lies, 
And,  as  he  was  dispos'd,  could  prove  it  ns 

Below  the  moon,  or  else  above  it ; 
What  Adam  dreamt  of,  when  his  bride 
Came  from  her  closet  in  his  side ; 
Whether  the  Devil  tempted  her 
By  a  high  Dutch  interpreter ;  leo 

If  either  of  them  had  a  navel ; 
Who  first  made  music  malleable ; 
Whether  the  Serpent,  at  the  Fall, 
Had  cloven  feet,  or  none  at  all : 
All  this,  without  a  gloss  or  comment,  i85 

He  could  unriddle  in  a  moment, 
In  proper  terms,  such  as  men  smatter 
When  they  throw  out  and  miss  the  matter. 
For  his  religion,  it  was  fit 

V.  181.  Several  of  the  Ancients  have  supposed  that  Adam 
and  Eve  had  no  navels;  and,  among  the  Modems,  the  late 
learned  Bishop  Cumberland  was  of  this  opinion. 


PART   I.      CANTO   I.  13 

To  match  his  learning  and  his  wit:  ion 

'Twas  Presbyterian  true  blue  ; 

For  he  was  of  that  stubborn  crew 

Of  errant  saints,  whom  all  men  grant 

To  be  the  true  Church  Militant ; 

Such  as  do  build  their  faith  upon  195 

The  holy  text  of  pike  and  gun  ; 

Decide  all  controversies  by 

Infallible  artillery ; 

And  prove  their  doctrine  orthodox, 

By  Apostolic  blows  and  knocks  ;  200 

Call  fire  and  sword,  and  desolation, 

A  godly,  thorough  Reformation, 

Which  always  must  be  carry'd  on, 

And  still  be  doing,  never  done ; 

As  if  Religion  were  intended  sos 

For  nothing  else  but  to  be  mended : 


V.  193, 194.  Where  Presbytery  has  been  established,  it  has 
been  usually  effected  by  force  of  arms,  like  the  religion  of 
Mahomet:  thus  it  was  established  at  Geneva  in  Smtzerland, 
Holland,  Scotland,  &c.  In  France,  for  some  time,  by  that 
means,  it  obtained  a  toleration ;  much  blood  was  shed  to  get 
it  estabUshed  in  England :  and  once,  during  that  Grand  Rebel- 
hon,  it  seemed  very  near  gaining  an  establishment  here. 

V.  195, 196.  Upon  these  Cornet  Joyce  buUt  his  faith,  when 
he  carried  away  the  King,  by  force,  from  Holdenby :  for,  when 
his  Majesty  asked  hhn  for  a  sight  of  his  Instmctions,  Joyce 
said,  he  should  see  them  presently;  and  so  drawing  up  his 
troop  m  the  inward  court,  "  These,  Sir  (said  the  Cornet),  are 
my  Instructions." 

V.  199,  200.  Many  instances  of  that  kind  are  given  by  Dr. 
Walker,  in  his  '  Sufferings  of  the  Episcopal  Clergy.' 


14  nUDIBRAS. 

A  sect  whose  chief  devotion  hes 

In  odd  perverse  antipatliies  ; 

In  falling  out  with  that  or  this, 

And  finding  somewhat  still  amiss  ;  210 

More  peevish,  cross,  and  splenetic, 

Than  dog  distract,  or  monkey  sick : 

That  with  more  care  keep  holyday 

The  wrong,  than  others  the  right  way ; 

Compound  for  sins  they  are  inclin'd  to,  215 

By  damning  those  they  have  no  mind  to: 

Still  so  perverse  and  opposite. 

As  if  they  worshipp'd  God  for  spite : 

The  self-same  thing  they  will  abhor 

One  way,'  and  long  another  for  :  220 

"FreewUl  they  one  way  disavow. 

Another,  nothing  else  allow : 

All  piety  consists  therein 

In  them,  in  other  men  all  sm : 

Rather  than  fad,  they  wUl  defy  225 

That  which  they  love  most  tenderly ; 

Quarrel  with  minc'd-pies,  and  disparage 

Their  best  and  dearest  friend,  plum-porridge ; 

Fat  pig  and  goose  itself  oppose. 

And  blaspheme  custard  through  the  nose.  230 

V.  207.  The  religion  of  the  Presbyterians  of  those  times 
consisted  principally  in  an  opposition  to  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, and  quaiTelling  with  the  most  innocent  customs  then  in 
use,  as  the  eating  Christmas-pies  and  plum-porridge  at  Christ- 
mas ;  which  they  reputed  sinful. 

V.  213,  214.  They  were  so  remarkably  obstinate  in  this 
respect,  that  they  kept  a  fast  upon  Christmas-day. 


PART    I.      CANTO    I.  15 

Th'  apostles  of  this  fierce  religion, 

Like  Mahomet's,  were  ass  and  widgeon, 

To  whom  our  Knight,  by  fast  instinct 

Of  wit  and  temper,  was  so  linkt. 

As  if  hypocrisy  and  nonsense  aas 

Had  got  th'  advowson  of  his  conscience. 

Thus  was  he  gifted  and  accoutred. 
We  mean  on  th'  inside,  not  the  outward : 
That  next  of  all  we  shall  discuss ; 
Then  listen.  Sirs,  it  follows  thus.  243 

His  tawny  beard  was  th'  equal  grace 
Both  of  his  wisdom  and  his  face ; 
In  cut  and  die  so  like  a  tile, 
A  sudden  view  it  would  beguile ; 
The  upper  part  Avhereof  was  whey,  245 

The  nether  orange,  mix'd  with  grey. 

V.  235,  236.  Dr.  Bruno  Kyves  gives  a  remarkable  instance 
of  a  fanatical  conscience  in  a  captain,  who  was  invited  by  a 
soldier  to  eat  part  of  a  goose  with  him;  but  refused,  because, 
he  said,  it  was  stolen :  but  being  to  march  away,  he  who  would 
eat  no  stolen  goose  made  no  scruple  to  ride  away  upon  a  stolen 
mare ;  for,  pluuderuig  Mrs.  Bartlet  of  her  mare,  this  hypocriti- 
cal captain  gave  sufficient  testimony  to  the  world  that  the  old 
Pharisee  and  new  Puritan  have  consciences  of  the  self-same 
temper,  "To  strain  at  a  gnat,  and  swallow  a  camel." 

V.  241.  Mr.  Butler,  in  his  description  of  Hudibras's  beard, 
seems  to  have  had  an  eye  to  Jaques's  description  of  the  Coun- 
try Justice,  in  '  As  you  like  it.'  It  may  be  asked.  Why  the 
Poet  is  so  particular  upon  the  Knight's  beard,  and  gives  it  the 
preference  to  all  his  other  accoutrements  ?  The  answer  seems 
to  be  plain :  the  Knight  had  made  a  vow  not  to  cut  it  till  the 
Parliament  had  subdued  the  Khig ;  hence  it  became  necessary 
to  have  it  fully  described. 


16 


HUDIBRAS. 


This  hairj  meteor  did  denounce 

The  fall  of  sceptres  and  of  crowns ; 

With  grisly  type  did  represent 

Declining  age  of  government,  250 

And  tell,  with  hieroglyphic  spade, 

Its  own  gravb  and  the  State's  were  made : 

Like  Samson's  heart-breakers,  it  grew 

In  time  to  make  a  nation  rue ; 

Though  it  contributed  its  own  fall,  25s 

To  wait  upon  the  pubUc  downfall : 

It  was  monastic,  and  did  grow 

In  holy  orders  by  strict  vow. 

Of  rule  as  sullen  and  severe, 

As  that  of  rigid  Cordehere  :  2(50 

'Twas  bound  to  suffer  persecution, 

And  martyrdom,  with  resolution ; 

T'  oppose  itself  against  the  hate 

And  vengeance  of  th'  incensed  state, 

In  whose  defiance  it  Avas  worn,  2C5 

Still  ready  to  be  puU'd  and  torn. 

With  red-hot  irons  to  be  tortured, 

Eevil'd,  and  spit  upon,  and  martyr'd ; 

IMaugre  all  which  'twas  to  stand  fast 

As  long  as  Monarchy  should  last ;  270 

But  when  the  state  should  hap  to  reel, 

T'was  to  submit  to  fatal  steel, 

And  fall,  as  it  was  consecrate, 

A  sacrifice  to  fall  of  state, 

V.  257.    Var.  'It  was  canonic' 


PART    I.       CANTO    I.  17 


"WTaose  tliread  of  life  the  Fatal  Sisters  275 


Did  twist  together  with  its  wliisker; 


'O 


And  twine  so  close  that  Time  should  never, 

In  life  or  death,  their  fortunes  sever, 

But  with  his  rusty  sickle  mow 

Both  down  together  at  a  blow.  aeo 

So  learned  Taliacotius,  from 
The  brawny  part  of  porter's  bum, 
Cut  supplemental  noses,  which 
"Would  last  as  long  as  parent  breech. 
But  when  the  date  of  Nock  was  out  286 

Off  dropt  the  sympathetic  snout. 
His  back,  or  rather  burthen,  show'd 
As  if  it  stoop'd  with  its  own  load : 
For  as  -^neas  bore  his  sire 

Upon  his  shoulders  through  the  fire,  «90 

Our  Knight  did  bear  no  less  a  pack 
Of  his  own  buttocks  on  his  back ; 
"Which  now  had  almost  got  the  upper- 
Hand  of  his  head  for  want  of  crupper. 
To  poise  this  equally,  he  bore  295 

A  paunch  of  the  same  bulk  before, 

V.  281.  Gasper  Taliacotius  was  bom  at  Bononia,  A.  D. 
1553,  and  was  Professor  of  phj'sic  and  surgery  there.  He  died 
1599.  His  statvie  stands  in  the  Anatomy  theatre,  holding  a 
nose  in  its  hand.  —  He  wrote  a  treatise  in  Latin  called  '  Chirur- 
gia  Nota,'  in  which  he  teaches  the  art  of  ingrafting  noses,  ears, 
lips,  &c.  with  the  proper  instruments  and  bandages.  This 
book  has  passed  through  two  editions.  See  '  Grasfe  de  Klii- 
noplastice,  sive  arte  curtum  Nasum  ad  Vivum  restituendi 
Commentatio,'  4to.  Berolin,  1818. 


18  HUDIBKAS. 

Which  still  he  had  a  special  care 

To  keep  well-cramm'd  with  thrifty  fare, 

As  wliite-pot,  butter-milk,  and  curds, 

Such  as  a  country-house  affords  ;  soo 

With  other  victual,  which  anon 

We  further  shall  dilate  upon, 

When  of  his  hose  we  come  to  treat, 

The  cupboard  where  he  kept  his  meat. 

His  doublet  was  of  sturdy  buff,  305 

And  though  not  sword,  yet  cudgel-proof, 
Whereby  'twas  fitter  for  his  use 
Who  fear'd  no  blows  but  such  as  bruise. 

His  breeches  were  of  rugged  woollen. 
And  had  been  at  the  siege  of  Bullen  ;  310 

To  Old  King  Hariy  so  well  known. 
Some  writers  held  they  were  his  own : 
Through  they  were  lin'd  with  many  a  piece 
Of  ammunition  bread  and  cheese. 
And  fat  black-puddings,  proper  food  315 

For  warriors  that  delight  in  blood. 
For,  as  we  said,  he  always  chose 
To  carry  vittle  in  his  hose. 
That  often  tempted  rats  and  mice 
The  ammunition  to  surprise  ;  300 

And  when  he  put  a  hand  but  in 
The  one  or  t'other  magazine, 
They  stoutly  in  defence  on't  stood, 
And  from  the  wounded  foe  drew  blood  ; 
And,  till  th'  were  storm'd  and  beaten  out,  sjo 

Ne'er  left  the  fortify'd  redoubt. 


PART    I.      CANTO    I. 


19 


And  though  knights-errant,  as  some  think, 

Of  old  did  neither  eat  nor  drink, 

Because  when  thorough  deserts  vast 

And  regions  desolate  they  past,  330 

Wiiere  belly-timber  above  ground 

Or  under  was  not  to  be  found. 

Unless  they  graz'd  there's  not  one  word 

Of  their  provision  on  record ; 

"Which  made  some  confidently  write,  333 

They  had  no  stomachs  but  to  fight : 

'Tis  false  ;  for  Arthur  wore  in  hall 

Round  table  like  a  farthingal. 

On  which,  with  shirt  pulled  out  behind, 

And  eke  before,  his  good  knights  din'd :  S40 

Though  'twas  no  table  some  suppose. 

But  a  huge  pair  of  round  trunk-hose, 

In  which  he  carry'd  as  much  meat 

As  he  and  all  the  knights  could  eat. 

When,  laying  by  their  swords  and  truncheons,  345 

They  took  their  breakfasts  or  their  nuncheons. 

But  let  that  pass  at  present,  lest 

We  should  forget  where  we  digrest, 

As  learned  authors  use,  to  whom 

We  leave  it,  and  to  th'  purpose  come.  350 

His  puissant  sword  unto  his  side, 
Near  his  undaunted  heart,  was  tied, 
With  basket-hilt  that  would  hold  broth. 
And  serve  for  fight  and  dinner  both; 
In  it  he  melted  lead  for  bullets  355 

To  shoot  at  foes,  and  sometimes  pullets, 


20 


HUDIBRAS. 


365 


370 


To  whom  he  bore  so  fell  a  grutch, 

He  ne'er  gave  quarter  t'  any  such. 

The  trenchant  blade  Toledo  trusty 

For  want  of  fighting  was  grown  rusty,  360 

And  ate  into  itself  for  lack 

Of  somebody  to  hew  and  hack : 

The  peaceful  scabbard,  where  it  dwelt, 

The  rancour  of  its  edge  had  felt ; 

For  of  the  lower  end  two  handful 

It  had  devoured,  'twas  so  manful, 

And  so  much  scorn'd  to  lurk  in  case, 

As  if  it  durst  not  show  its  face. 

In  many  desperate  attempts 

Of  warrants,  exigents,  contempts, 

It  had  appear'd  with  courage  bolder 

Than  Serjeant  Bum  invading  shoulder : 

Oft  had  it  ta'en  possession. 

And  pris'ners  too,  or  made  them  run. 

This  sword  a  dagger  had,  his  page,  375 

That  was  but  httle  for  his  a<re. 
And  therefore  waited  on  him  so 
As  dwarfs  upon  knights-errant  do. 
It  was  a  serviceable  dudgeon. 
Either  for  fighting  or  for  drudo-ino-: 
When  it  had  stabb'd,  or  broke  a  head. 
It  would  scrape  trenchers,  or  chip  bread ; 
Toast  cheese  or  bacon ;  though  it  were 
To  bate  a  mouse-trap,  'twould  not  care : 
'Twould  make  clean  shoes,  and  m  the  earth      395 
Set  leeks  and  onions,  and  so  forth : 


380 


PART    I.      CANTO    I.  21 

It  had  been  'prentice  to  a  brewer, 

Where  this  and  more  it  did  endure, 

But  left  the  trade  as  many  more 

Have  lately  done  on  the  same  score.  390 

In  th'  holsters  at  his  saddle-bow- 
Two  aged  pistols  he  did  stow, 

Among  the  surplus  of  such  meat 

As  in  his  hose  he  could  not  get : 

These  would  inveigle  rats  with  th'  scent,  395 

To  forage  when  the  cocks  were  bent, 

And  sometimes  catch  'em  with  a  snap. 

As  cleverly  as  th'  ablest  trap. 

They  were  upon  hard  duty  still. 

And  every  night  stood  sentinel,  400 

To  guard  the  magazine  i'  th'  hose 

From  two-legg'd  and  from  four-legg'd  foes. 

Thus  clad  and  fortify'd  Sir  Knight 
From  peaceful  home  set  forth  to  fight. 
But  first  with  nimble  active  force  406 

He  got  on  th'  outside  of  his  horse : 
For  having  but  one  stirrup  ty'd 
T'  his  saddle  on  the  farther  side, 
It  was  so  short  h'  had  much  ado 
To  reach  it  with  his  desp'rate  toe ;  410 

But  after  many  strains  and  heaves, 
He  got  up  to  the  saddle-eaves, 
From  whence  he  vaulted  into  th'  seat 
"With  so  much  vigour,  strength,  and  heat, 
That  he  had  almost  tumbled  over  415 

With  his  own  weight,  but  did  recover 


22  HUDIBKAS. 

By  laying  hold  on  tail  and  mane, 
Which  oft  he  us'd  instead  of  rein. 

But  now  we  talk  of  mounting  steed, 
Before  we  further  do  proceed,  420 

It  doth  behove  us  to  say  something 
Of  that  which  bore  our  valiant  Bumkin. 
The  beast  was  sturdy,  large,  and  taU, 
With  mouth  of  meal  and  eyes  of  wall, 
I  would  say  eye,  for  h'  had  but  one,  425 

As  most  agree,  though  some  say  none. 
He  was  well  stay'd,  and  in  his  gate 
Presei'v'd  a  grave,  majestic  state  ; 
At  spur  or  switch  no  more  he  skipt 
Or  mended  pace  than  Spaniard  whipt,  430 

And  yet  so  fiery,  he  would  bound 
As  if  he  griev'd  to  touch  the  ground ; 
That  Ctesar's  horse,  who,  as  fame  goes, 
Had  corns  upon  his  feet  and  toes. 
Was  not  by  half  so  tender  hooft,  435 

Nor  trod  upon  the  ground  so  soft : 
And  as  that  beast  would  kneel  and  stoop 
(Some  write)  to  take  his  rider  up  ; 
So  Hudibras  his  ('tis  well  known) 
Would  often  do  to  set  him  down.  440 

We  shall  not  need  to  say  what  lack 
Of  leather  was  upon  his  back, 
For  that  was  hidden  under  pad. 
And  breech  of  Knight  gall'd  full  as  bad. 
His  strutting  ribs  on  both  sides  show'd  446 

Like  furrows  he  himself  had  plough'd ; 


PART    I.      CANTO   I.  23 

For  underneath  the  skirt  of  pannel, 

'Twixt  ev'ry  two  there  was  a  channel. 

His  dragghng  tail  hung  in  the  dirt, 

Which  on  his  rider  he  would  flirt,  450 

Still  as  his  tender  side  he  prickt. 

With  arm'd  heel,  or  with  unarm'd,  kickt : 

For  Hudibras  wore  but  one  spur, 

As  wisely  knowing  could  he  stir 

To  active  trot  one  side  of  's  horse,  45S 

The  other  would  not  hang  an  arse. 

A  Squire  he  had  whose  name  was  Ralph, 
That  in  th'  adventure  went  his  half, 
Though  writers,  for  more  stately  tone, 
Do  call  him  Ralpho,  'tis  all  one ;  460 

And  when  we  can,  with  metre  safe, 
We'U  call  him  so ;  if  not,  plain  Ralph  ; 
(For  rhyme  the  rudder  is  of  verses. 
With  which,  like  ships,  they  steer  their  courses)  : 
An  equal  stock  of  wit  and  valour  465 

He  had  laid  in,  by  birth  a  tailor. 
The  mighty  Tyrian  queen,  that  gain'd 
With  subtle  shreds  a  tract  of  land. 
Did  leave  it  with  a  castle  fair 
To  his  great  ancestor,  her  heir ;  470 

V.  457.  Sir  Roger  L'Estrange  ('Key  to  Hudibras')  says,  this 
famous  Squire  was  one  Isaac  Robinson,  a  zealous  butcher  in 
Moorfields,  who  was  always  contriving  some  new  querpo  cut 
in  church  government :  but,  in  a  '  Key '  at  the  end  of  a  bur- 
lesque poem  of  Mr.  Butler's,  1706,  in  folio,  p.  12,  it  is  observed, 
"  That  Hudibras's  Squire  was  one  Pemble,  a  tailor,  and  one  of 
the  Committee  of  Sequestrators." 


24  HUDIBRA.S. 

From  him  descended  cross-legg'd  kniglits, 

Fam'd  for  their  faitli  and  warlike  fights 

Against  the  bloody  Cannibal, 

Whom  they  destroy'd  both  great  and  small. 

This  sturdy  Squire  he  had,  as  well  4i5 

As  the  bold  Trojan  knight,  seen  hell,. 

Not  with  a  counterfeited  pass 

Of  golden  bough,  but  true  gold-lace  : 

His  knowledge  was  not  far  behind 

The  Knight's,  but  of  another  kind,  480 

And  he  another  way  came  by  't, 

Some  call  it  Gifts,  and  some  New-Ught ; 

A  lib'ral  art,  that  costs  no  pams 

Of  study,  industry,  or  brains. 

His  wit  was  sent  him  for  a  token,  48s 

But  in  the  carriage  crack'd  and  broken ; 

Like  commendation  nine-pence  crookt 

With  —  To  and  from  my  love  —  it  lookt. 

He  ne'er  consider'd  it,  as  loth 

To  look  a  gift-horse  in  the  mouth,  490 

And  very  wisely  would  lay  forth 

No  more  upon  it  than  'twas  worth ; 

But  as  he  got  it  freely,  so 

V.  485.    Var.  '  His  vnts  were  sent  him.' 

V.  487,  488.  Until  the  year  1696,  when  all  money,  not 
milled,  was  called  in,  a  ninepenny  piece  of  sUver  was  as  com- 
mon as  sixpences  or  shillings,  and  these  ninepences  were  nsu- 
ally  bent  as  sixpences  commonly  are  now,  which  bending  v/as 
called,  To  my  love  and  from  my  love ;  and  such  ninepences 
the  ordinary  fellows  gave  or  sent  to  then-  sweethearts  as  to 
keus  of  love. 


PART    I.       CANTO    I.  25 

He  spent  it  frank  and  freely  too : 

For  saints  themselves  will  sometimes  be,  495 

Of  gifts  that  cost  them  nothing,  free. 

Bj  means  of  this,  with  hem  and  cough, 

Prolongers  to  enlighten'd  stuff, 

He  could  deep  mysteries  unriddle, 

As  easily  as  thread  a  needle :  500 

For  as  of  vagabonds  we  say, 

That  they  are  ne'er  beside  their  way, 

"NYliate'er  men  speak  by  this  new  light. 

Still  they  are  sure  to  be  i'  th'  right. 

'Tis  a  dark  lantern  of  the  Spirit,  sos 

"Which  none  see  by  but  those  that  bear  it ; 

A  light  that  falls  down  from  on  high. 

For  spiritual  trades  to  cozen  by ; 

An  ignis  fatuus,  that  bewitches, 

And  leads  men  into  pools  and  ditches,  510 

To  make  them  dip  themselves,  and  sound 

For  Christendom  in  dirty  pond ; 

To  dive  like  wild-fowl  for  salvation. 

And  fish  to  catch  regeneration. 

This  light  inspires  and  plays  upon  515 

The  nose  of  saint,  like  bagpipe  drone, 

And  speaks  through  hollow  empty  soul. 

As  through  a  trunk  or  whisp'ring  hole. 

Such  language  as  no  mortal  ear 

But  spirit'al  eaves-droppers  can  hear :  520 


V.  511.     Alluding  to  Ealpho's  religion,  who  was  probably  an 
Anabaptist  or  Dipper. 

VOL.    I.  6 


fi2> 


26  nuDiiJRAS. 

So  Phoebus,  or  some  friendly  Muse, 
Into  small  poets  song  infuse, 
Which  they  at  second-hand  rehearse, 
Through  reed  or  bagpipe,  verse  for  verse. 

Thus  Ralph  became  infiillible 
As  three  or  four-legg'd  oracle, 
The  ancient  cup,  or  modern  chair, 
Spoke  truth  point  blank,  though  unaware. 

For  mystic  learning,  wondrous  able 
In  magic,  talisman,  and  cabal,  533 

Whose  primitive  tradition  reaches 
As  far  as  Adam's  first  green  breeches ; 
Deep-sighted  in  inteUigences, 
Ideas,  atoms,  influences ; 

And  much  of  Terra  Incognita,  635 

Th'  intelligible  world,  could  say ; 
A  deep  occult  philosopher, 

A.S  learn'd  as  the  Wild  Irish  are, 
Or  Sir  Agrippa,  for  profound 

And  solid  lying  much  renown'd :  540 

He  Anthroposophus,  and  Floud, 

And  Jacob  Behmen,  understood  ; 

Knew  many  an  amulet  and  charm, 

That  would  do  neither  good  nor  harm ; 

In  Rosycrucian  lore  as  learned  S45 

As  he  that  Vere  adeptus  earned : 

He  understood  the  speech  of  birds 

As  well  as  they  themselves  do  words ; 

V.  546.    Alluding  to  the  Philosophers'  stone. 


PAKT   I.      CANTO    I.  27 

Could  tell  what  subtlest  parrots  mean, 

That  speak  and  think  contrary  clean  ;  sso 

What  member  'tis  of  whom  they  talk 

When  they  cry  Rope,  and  Walk,  Knave,  walk. 

He'd  extract  numbers  out  of  matter, 

And  keep  them  in  a  glass,  hke  water, 

Of  sov'reign  pow'r  to  make  men  wise ;  566 

For,  dropt  in  blear  thick-sighted  eyes, 

They'd  make  them  see  in  darkest  night, 

Like  owls,  though  purblind  in  the  Hght. 

By  help  of  these  (as  he  profest) 

He  had  First  Matter  seen  undrest :  660 

He  took  her  naked,  all  alone. 

Before  one  rag  of  form  was  on. 

The  Chaos,  too,  he  had  descry'd, 

And  seen  quite  through,  or  else  he  ly'd : 

Not  that  of  Pasteboard,  which  men  shew  565 

For  groats  at  fair  of  Barthol'mew ; 

But  itSi  great  grandsire,  first  o'  th'  name. 

Whence  that  and  Refoi-matiou  came, 

Both  cousin-germans,  and  right  able 

T'  inveigle  and  draw  in  the  rabble :  670 

But  reformation  was,  some  say, 

0'  th'  younger  house  to  Puppet-play. 

He  could  foretell  whats'ever  was 

By  consequence  to  come  to  pass ; 

V.  573.  The  rebellious  clergy  would  in  their  prayers  pre- 
tend to  foretell  things,  to  encourage  people  in  their  rebellion. 
I  meet  with  the  following  instance  in  the  prayers  of  Mr.  George 
Swathe,  minister  of  Denham,  m  Suffolk:  "  0  my  good  Lord 


28  HUDIBEAS. 

As  death  of  great  men,  alterations,  575 

Diseases,  battles,  inundations : 

All  this  without  th'  eclipse  o'  th'  sun, 

Or  dreadful  comet,  he  hath  done 

By  inward  light,  a  way  as  good. 

And  easy  to  be  understood  ;  580 

But  with  more  lucky  hit  than  those 

That  use  to  make  the  stars  depose. 

Like  Knights  o'  th'  Post,  and  falsely  charge 

Upon  themselves  what  others  forge  ; 

As  if  they  were  consenting  to  ssa 

All  mischiefs  in  the  world  men  do, 

Or,  like  the  devil,  did  tempt  and  sway  'em 

To  rogueries,  and  then  betray  'em. 

They'll  search  a  planet's  house,  to  know 

God,  I  praise  thee  for  discovering  the  last  week,  in  the  day- 
time, a  vision,  that  there  were  two  great  armies  about  York, 
one  of  the  maUgnant  party  about  the  lung,  the  other  party 
Parhament  and  professors :  and  the  better  side  should  have 
help  from  Heaven  against  the  worst ;  about,  or  at  which  instant 
of  time,  we  heard  the  soldiers  at  York  had  raised  up  a  sconce 
against  Hull,  intending  to  plant  fifteen  pieces  against  Hull; 
against  which  fort  Sir  John  Hotham,  Keeper  of  Hull,  by  a 
garrison,  discharged  four  great  ordnance,  and  broke  down  their 
sconce,  and  killed  divers  Cavaliers  in  it.  —  Lord,  I  praise  thee 
for  discovering  this  victory,  at  the  instant  of  time  that  it  was 
done,  to  my  wife,  which  did  then  presently  confirm  her  droop- 
ing heart,  which  the  last  week  had  been  dejected  three  or  four 
days,  and  no  arguments  could  comfort  her  against  the  dan- 
gerous times  approaching;  but  when  she  had  prayed  to  be 
estabhshed  in  faith  in  thee,  then  presently  thou  didst,  by  this 
vision,  strongly  possess  her  soul  that  thine  and  our  enemies 
should  be  overcome." 


PART    I.      CANTO    I.  29 

Wlio  broke  and  robb'd  a  house  below ;  S90 

Examine  Venus  and  the  Moon, 

Who  stole  a  thunble  or  a  spoon ; 

And  though  they  nothing  will  confess, 

Yet  by  their  very  looks  can  guess, 

And  teU  what  guilty  aspect  bodes,  595 

"Who  stole,  and  who  receiv'd  the  goods : 

They'll  question  Mars,  and,  by  his  look, 

Detect  who  'twas  that  nimm'd  a  cloak ; 

Make  Mercury  confess,  and  'peach 

Those  thieves  wliich  he  himself  did  teach.         600 

They'll  find  i'  th'  physiognomies 

O'  th'  planets,  all  men's  destinies. 

Like  him  that  took  the  doctor's  bill, 

And  swaUow'd  it  instead  o'  th'  pill ; 

Cast  the  nativity  o'  th'  question,  60s 

And  from  positions  to  be  guest  on, 

As  sure  as  if  they  knew  the  moment 

Of  Native's  birth,  tell  what  will  come  on't. 

They'll  feel  the  pulses  of  the  stars. 

To  find  out  agues,  coughs,  catarrhs,  610 

And  tell  what  crisis  does  divine 

The  rot  in  sheep,  or  mange  in  swine ; 

In  men,  what  gives  or  cures  the  itch, 

"What  makes  them  cuckolds,  poor  or  rich ; 

Wliat  gains  or  loses,  hangs  or  saves  ;  615 

What  makes  men  great,  what  fools  or  knaves. 

But  not  what  wise,  for  only  of  those 

The  stars  (they  say)  cannot  dispose. 

No  more  than  can  the  astrologians ; 


30  HUDIBRAS. 

There  tliey  say  right,  and  Uke  true  Trojans :     620 

This  Ralpho  knew,  and  therefore  took 

The  other  course,  of  which  we  spoke- 
Thus  was  th'  accomplish'd  Squire  endu'd 

With  gifts  and  knowledge  per'lous  shrewd : 

Never  did  trusty  squire  with  knight,  625 

Or  knight  with  squire,  e'er  jump  more  right. 

Their  arms  and  equipage  did  fit. 

As  well  as  vu-tues,  jiarts,  and  wit: 

Their  valours,  too,  were  of  a  rate ; 

And  out  they  sally'd  at  the  gate.  eso 

Few  miles  on  horseback  had  they  jogged 

But  Fortune  unto  them  turn'd  dogged ; 

For  they  a  sad  adventure  met. 

Of  which  anon  we  mean  to  treat. 

But  ere  we  venture  to  unfold  636 

Achievements  so  resolv'd  and  bold, 

"We  should,  as  learned  poets  use, 

Invoke  th'  assistance  of  some  Muse, 

However  critics  count  it  sillier 

Than  jugglers  talking  to  familiar ;  640 

We  think  'tis  no  great  matter  which, 

They're  all  alike,  yet  we  shall  pitch 

On  one  that  fits  our  purpose  most, 

Whom  therefore  thus  do  we  accost. 

Thou  that  with  ale,  or  viler  liquors,  645 

Didst  inspire  Withers,  Pryn,  and  Vickars, 

And  force  them,  though  it  was  in  spite 

Of  Nature,  and  their  stars,  to  write ; 

Who  (as  we  find  in  suUen  writs, 


TAKT    I.       CANTO    I.  31 

And  cross-gi'ain'd  works  of  modern  wits)  eso 

With  vanity,  opinion,  want, 

The  wonder  of  the  ignorant, 

The  praises  of  the  author,  penn'd 

B'  himself  or  wit-insuring  friend. 

The  itcli  of  picture  in  tlie  front,  655 

Witli  bays  and  wicked  rhyme  upon't, 

(All  that  is  left  o'  th'  Forked  hill 

To  make  men  scribble  without  skill) 

Canst  make  a  poet,  spite  of  Fate, 

And  teach  all  people  to  translate,  eeo 

Though  out  of  languages  in  which 

They  understand  no  part  of  speech ; 

Assist  me  but  this  once,  I  'mplore, 

And  I  shall  trouble  thee-  no  more. 

In  western  clime  there  is  a  town,  665 

To  those  that  dwell  therein  well  known. 
Therefore  there  needs  no  more  be  said  here. 
We  unto  them  refer  our  reader ; 
For  brevity  is  very  good, 

When  w'  are,  or  are  not  understood.  670 

To  tliis  town  people  did  repair 
On  days  of  mai'ket  or  of  fau-, 

V.  665.  Brentford,  which  is  eight  miles  west  from  London, 
is  here  probably  meant,  as  may  be  gathered  from  Part  II. 
Cant.  iii.  v.  995,  &c.  where  he  tells  the  Knight  what  befell 
him  there: 

And  though  you  overcame  the  Bear, 
The  dogs  beat  you  at  Brentford  fair, 
Where  sturdy  butchers  broke  your  noddle. 


32  HUDIBKAS. 

And  to  crack'd  fiddle  and  hoarse  tabor, 

In  merriment  did  drudge  and  labour  : 

But  now  a  sport  more  formidable  675 

Had  rak'd  together  village  rabble  ; 

'T\yas  an  old  way  of  reci'eating, 

"Wliich  leai'ned  butchers  call  Bear-baiting  ; 

A  bold  advent'rous  exercise, 

With  ancient  heroes  in  high  prize  ;  oso 

For  authors  do  affirm  it  came 

From  Isthmian  or  Nemaean  game  ; 

Others  derive  it  from  the  Bear 

That's  fix'd  in  northern  hemisphere, 

And  round  about  the  pole  does  make  ess 

A  circle,  like  a  bear  at  stake. 

That  at  the  chain's  end  wheels  about, 

And  overturns  the  rabble-rout : 

For,  after  solemn  proclamation 

In  the  bear's  name  (as  is  the  fashion  690 

V.  687.  This  game  is  usliered  into  the  Poem  with  more 
solemnity  than  those  celebrated  ones  in  Homer  and  Virgil. 
As  the  Poem  is  only  adorned  with  tliis  game,  and  the  Eiding 
Sldmmington,  so  it  was  incumbent  on  the  Poet  to  be  very 
particular  and  full  in  the  description :  and  may  we  not  ven- 
ture to  affirm,  they  are  exactly  suitable  to  the  nature  of  these 
adventures ;  and,  consequently,  to  a  Briton,  preferable  to  those 
in  Homer  or  Virgil. 

V.  689,  690.  AUuding  to  the  bull-rannmg  at  Tutbury  in 
Staffordshire;  where  solemn  proclamation  v/as  made  by  the 
Steward,  before  the  bull  was  turned  loose ;  "  That  all  manner 
of  persons  give  way  to  the  bull,  none  being  to  come  near  him 
by  forty  fo'vt,  any  way  to  hinder  the  minstrels,  but  to  attend 
his  or  their  own  safety,  every  one  at  his  pei-il."  Dr.  Plot's 
'  Staffordshke.' 


PART    I.       CANTO    I.  33 

According  to  the  law  of  arms, 
To  keep  men  from  inglorious  harms) 
That  none  presume  to  come  so  near 
As  forty  foot  of  stake  of  bear, 
If  any  yet  be  so  fool-hardy  695 

T'  expose  themselves  to  vain  jeopardy, 
If  they  come  wounded  off,  and  lame, 
No  honour's  got  by  such  a  maim. 
Although  the  bear  gain  much,  being  bound 
In  honour  to  make  good  his  ground  too 

"When  he's  engag'd,  and  takes  no  notice. 
If  any  press  upon  him,  who  'tis, 
But  lets  them  know,  at  their  own  cost, 
That  he  intends  to  keep  his  post. 
This  to  prevent  and  other  harms  705 

"Which  always  wait  on  feats  of  arms 
(For  in  the  hurry  of  a  fray 
'Tis  hard  to  keep  out  of  harm's  way), 
Thither  the  Knight  his  course  did  steer, 
To  keep  the  peace  'twixt  Dog  and  Bear,  710 

As  he  believ'd  he  was  bound  to  do 
In  conscience  and  commission  too  ; 
And  therefore  thus  bespoke  the  Squire  : 
We  that  are  wisely  mounted  higher 

V.  714.  Tliis  speech  is  set  down  as  it  was  delivered  by  the 
Knight,  in  his  own  words;  but  since  it  is  below  the  gi-avity  of 
heroical  poetry  to  admit  of  humour,  but  all  men  are  obliged 
to  speak  wisely  alike,  and  too  much  of  so  extravagant  a  folly 
would  become  tedious  and  impertinent,  the  rest  of  his  ha- 
rangues have  only  his  sense  expressed  m  other  words,  unle.*s 


34  HUDIBRAS. 

Than  constables  in  curule  wit,  7id 

When  on  tribunal  bench  we  sit, 
Like  sijeculators  should  foresee. 
From  Pharos  of  authority, 
Portended  mischiefs  further  than 
Low  Proletarian  tithing-men  ;  no 

And  therefore  being  inform'd  by  bruit 
That  Dog  and  Bear  are  to  dispute. 
For  so  of  late  men  fighting  name, 
Because  they  often  prove  the  same 
(For  where  the  first  does  hap  to  be,  723 

*        The  last  does  coincidere)  ; 

Quantum  in  nobis,  have  thought  good 

To  save  th'  expense  of  Christian  blood, 

And  try  if  we  by  mediation 

Of  treaty  and  accommodation,  730 

Can  end  the  quarrel,  and  compose 

The  bloody  duel  without  blows. 

Are  not  our  liberties,  our  lives. 

The  laws,  religion,  and  our  wives. 


in  some  few  places  where  his  own  words  could  not  be  so  well 
avoided. 

V.  715.  Had  that  remarkable  motion  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons taken  place,  the  constables  might  have  vied  with  Sir 
Hudibras  for  an  equality  at  least;  "That  it  was  necessary 
for  the  House  of  Commons  to  have  a  High  Constable  of  their 
own,  that  will  make  no  sciaiple  of  laying  his  Majesty  by  the 
heels:"  but  they  proceeded  not  so  far  as  to  name  any  body, 
because  Harry  Martyn  (out  of  tenderness  of  conscience  m  this 
particular)  immediately  quashed  the  motion,  by  saying,  the 
power  was  too  gi-eat  for  an}-  man.  , 


PART    I.       CANTO    I.  35 

Enough  at  once  to  lie  at  stake  735 

Foi'  Cov'nant  and  the  Cause's  sake  ? 

But  in  that  quarrel  Dogs  and  Bears, 

As  well  as  Ave,  must  venture  theirs  ? 

This  feud,  by  Jesuits  invented, 

By  evil  counsel  is  fomented ;  140 

There  is  a  Machiavilian  plot 

(Though  ev'ry  nare  olfact  it  not) 

And  deep  design  in't  to  divide 

The  well-aftected  that  confide, 

By  settiiig  brother  against  brothei',  745 

V.  736.  This  was  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  which 
was  first  framed  and  talten  by  the  Scottisli  Parliament,  and 
by  them  sent  to  the  Parliament  of  England,  in  order  to  unite 
the  two  nations  more  closely  in  religion.  It  was  received  and 
taken  by  both  Houses,  and  by  the  City  of  London ;  and  ordered 
to  be  read  in  all  the  churches  throughout  the  kingdom ;  and 
every  person  was  bound  to  give  his  consent,  by  holding  up  his 
hand,  at  the  reading  of  it. 

V.  736.  '  And  the  Cause's  sake.'  Sir  William  Dngdale 
informs  us  that  Mr.  Bond,  preaching  at  the  Savoy,  told  his 
auditors  from  the  pulpit,  "  That  they  ought  to  contribute  and 
pray,  and  do  all  they  were  able  to  bring  in  their  brethren  of 
Scotland  for  settling  of  God's  cause:  I  say  (quoth  he)  this  is 
God's  cause ;  and  if  our  God  hath  any  cause,  this  is  it ;  and 
if  this  be  not  God's  cause,  then  God  is  no  God  for  me;  but 
the  Devil  is  got  up  into  Heaven."  Mr.  Calamy,  in  his  speech 
at  Guildhall,  1643,  says,  "  I  may  truly  say,  as  the  ]\Iartyr  did, 
that  if  I  had  as  many  lives  as  hairs  on  my  head,  I  would  be 
willing  to  sacrifice  all  these  lives  in  this  cause;  " 

Which  pluck'd  down  the  King,  the  Church,  and  the  Laws, 
To  set  up  an  idol,  then  nick-nam'd  The  Cause, 
Like  Bell  and  the  Dragon  to  gorge  their  own  maws; 

as  it  is  expressed  in  "  The  Rump  Carbonaded." 


36  IIUDIBRAS. 

To  claw  and  curry  one  another. 

Have  we  not  enemies  plus  satis, 

That  cane  et  angue  pejus  liate  ua  ? 

And  shall  we  turn  our  fangs  and  claws 

Upon  our  own  selves,  without  cause  ?  7ao 

That  some  occult  design  doth  lie 

In  bloody  cynarctomachy, 

Is  plain  enough  to  him  that  knows 

How  Saints  lead  Brothers  by  the  nose. 

I  wish  myself  a  pseudo-prophet,  756 

But  sure  some  mischief  will  come  of  it, 

Unless  by  providential  wit, 

Or  force,  we  averruncate  it. 

For  what  design,  what  interest. 

Can  beast  have  to  encounter  beast  ?  760 

They  fight  for  no  espoused  Cause, 

Frail  Privilege,  Fundamental  Laws, 

Nor  for  a  thorough  Reformation, 

Nor  Covenant,  nor  Protestation, 

Nor  Liberty  of  consciences,  765 

Nor  Lords'  and  Commons'  Ordinances ; 

V.  765.  Var.  '  Nor  for  free  Liberty  of  Conscience.'  The 
word  'free'  was  left  out  in  1674;  and  Mr.  Warburton  thinks 
for  tlie  worse ;  '  free  liberty '  being  a  most  beautiful  and  sa- 
tirical periphrasis  for  licentiousness,  wliich  is  the  idea  the 
Author  here  intended  to  give  us. 

V.  766.  The  King  being  driven  from  the  Parliament,  no 
legal  acts  of  Parliament  could  be  made ;  therefore  when  the 
Lords  and  Commons  had  agreed  upon  any  bill,  they  published 
it,  and  required  obedience  to  it,  under  the  title  of  An  Ordi- 
nance of  Lords  and  Commons,  and  sometimes,  An  Ordinance 
of  Parliament. 


PART    I.      CANTO    I. 


37 


Nor  for  the  Church,  nor  for  Church-lands, 

To  get  them  into  their  own  hands  ; 

Nor  evil  Counsellors  to  bring 

To  justice,  that  seduce  the  King ;  770 

Nor  for  the  worship  of  us  men, 

Thoush  we  have  done  as  much  for  them. 

Th'  Egyptians  worshipp'd  dogs,  and  for 

Their  faith  made  internecine  war ; 

Others  ador'd  a  rat,  and  some  775 

For  that  church  suffer'd  martyrdom  ; 

The  Indians  fought  for  the  truth 

Of  th'  elephant  and  monkey's  tooth. 

And  many,  to  defend  that  faith. 

Fought  it  out  mordicus  to  death ;  780 

But  no  beast  ever  was  so  slight. 

For  man,  as  for  his  God,  to  fight: 

They  have  more  wit,  alas  !  and  know 

Themselves  and  us  better  than  so. 

But  we,  who  only  do  infuse  785 

The  rage  in  them  like  boute-feus, 

'Tis  our  example  that  instils 

Tn  them  th'  infection  of  our  ills. 

For,  as  some  late  philosophers 

Have  well  observ'd,  beasts  that  converse  790 

With  man  take  after  him,  as  hogs 

Get  pigs  all  th'  year,  and  bitches  dogs ; 

Just  so,  by  our  example,  cattle 

Learn  to  give  one  another  battle. 

AVe  read  in  Nero's  time,  the  Heathen,  795 

When  they  destroy'd  the  Christian  bretliren, 


38  HUDIBRAS. 

They  sew'd  them  in  the  skins  of  bears, 

And  then  set  dogs  about  their  ears ; 

From  whence,  no  doubt,  th'  invention  came 

Of  this  lewd  antichristian  game.  soo 

To  tliis  quotli  Ralpho,  verily 
The  point  seems  very  plain  to  me ; 
It  is  an  antichristian  game, 
Unlawful  both  in  thing  and  name. 
First,  for  the  name ;  the  word  Bear-baiting       sos 
Is  carnal,  and  of  man's  creating. 
For  certainly  there's  no  such  word 
In  all  the  Scripture  on  record; 
Therefore  unlawful,  and  a  sin : 
And  so  is  (secondly)  the  thing;  8io 

A  vde  assembly  'tis,  that  can 
No  more  be  proved  by  Scripture  than 
Provincial,  Classic,  National, 
Mere  human  creature  cobwebs  all. 
Thirdly,  it  is  idolatrous ;  8i5 

For  when  men  run  a-whoring  thus 
With  their  inventions,  whatsoe'er 
The  thing  be,  whether  Dog  or  Bear, 
It  is  Idolatrous  and  Pagan, 
No  less  than  worshipping  of  Dagon.  sao 

Quoth  Hudibras,  I  smell  a  rat ; 
Ralpho,  thou  dost  prevaricate  : 
For  though  the  thesis  which  thou  lay'st 
Be  true  ad  amussim,  as  thou  say'st ; 
(For  that  Bear-baiting  should  appear  835 

Jure  divino  lawfuller 


PART    I.    CANTO    I.  39 

Than  Synods  are,  tliou  dost  deny 

Totidem  verhis,  so  do  I) 

Yet  there's  a  fallacy  in  this ; 

For  if  by  sly  homceosis,  83a 

Tussis  pro  crepitu,  an  art 

Under  a  cough  to  slur  a  f — t, 

Thou  wouldst  sophistically  imply 

Both  are  unlawful,  I  deny. 

And  I,  quoth  Ralpho,  do  not  doubt  saa 

But  Bear-baiting  may  be  made  out, 
In  gospel-times,  as  lawful  as  is 
Provincial,  or  Parochial  Classis; 
And  that  both  are  so  near  of  kin, 
And  like  in  all,  as  well  as  sin,  840 

That  put  'em  in  a  bag,  and  shake  'em, 
Yourself  o'  th'  sudden  would  mistake  'em, 
And  not  know  which  is  which,  unless 
You  measure  by  their  wickedness  ; 
For  'tis  not  hard  t'  imagine  Avhether  345 

0'  th'  tAvo  is  worst,  tho'  I  name  neither. 

Quoth  ITudibras,  thou  ofFer'st  much. 
But  art  not  able  to  keep  touch  ; 
Mira  de  lente,  as  'tis  i'  th'  adage, 
Id  est,  to  make  a  leek  a  cabbage :  85o 

Thou  wilt  at  best  but  suck  a  bull, 
Or  shear  swine,  all  cry  and  no  wool; 

V.  851.    Var.  '  Thou  canst  at  best  but  overstrain 
A  paradox  and  thy  own  brain ; ' 
and 

'  Thou'lt  be  at  best  but  such  a  bull,'  &c. 


40  HUDIBRAS. 

For  what  can  Synods  have  at  all, 

With  Bear  that's  analogical? 

Or  what  relation  has  debating  So? 

Of  Church-affairs  with  Bear-baiting? 

A  just  comparison  still  is 

Of  things  ejusdem  generis  ; 

And  then  what  genus  rightly  doth 

Liclude  and  comprehend  them  both  ?  see 

If  animal,  both  of  us  may 

As  justly  pass  for  Bears  as  they  ; 

For  we  are  animals  no  less, 

Although  of  diflt'rent  specieses. 

But,  Ralpho,  this  is  no  fit  place,  8S6 

Nor  time,  to  argue  out  the  case .: 

For  now  the  field  is  not  far  off 

Wliere  we  must  give  the  world  a  proof 

Of  deeds,  not  words,  and  such  as  suit 

Another  manner  of  dispute :  870 

A  controversy  that  affords 

Actions  for  arguments,  not  words; 

Which  we  must  manage  at  a  rate 

Of  prowess  and  conduct  adequate 

To  what  our  place  and  fame  doth  promise,         875 

And  all  the  Godly  expect  from  us. 

Nor  shall  they  be  deceiv'd,  unless 

We're  slurr'd  and  outed  by  success ; 

Success,  the  mark  no  mortal  wit, 


V.  860.     Var.  '  Comprehend  them  inclusive  both.' 
V.  862.     Var.  '  As  likely.' 


PART   I.      CANTO    I.  41 

Or  surest  hand,  can  always  hit :  880 

For  whatsoe'er  we  perpetrate, 

We  do  but  row,  w'  are  steer'd  by  Fate, 

Which  in  success  oft  disinherits. 

For  spurious  causes,  noblest  merits. 

Great  actions  are  not  always  true  sons  885 

Of  great  and  mighty  resolutions  ; 

Nor  do  the  bold'st  attempts  bring  forth 

Events  still  equal  to  their  worth ; 

But  sometimes  fail,  and  in  their  stead 

Fortune  and  cowardice  succeed.  890 

Yet  we  have  no  great  cause  to  doubt. 

Our  actions  still  have  borne  us  out ; 

Which  though  they're  known  to  be  so  ample, 

We  need  not  copy  from  example ; 

We're  not  the  only  person  durst  895 

Attempt  this  province,  nor  the  first. 

In  northern  clime  a  val'rous  knight 

Did  whilom  kill  his  Bear  in  fight, 

And  wound  a  Fiddler :  we  have  both 

Of  these  the  objects  of  our  wroth,  900 

And  equal  fame  and  glory  from 

Th'  attempt,  or  victory  to  come. 

'Tis  sung  there  is  a  valiant  Mamaluke, 

In  foreign  land  yclep'd — 

V.  904.  The  writers  of  the  '  General  Historical  Dictiona- 
ry,' vol.  vi.  p.  291,  imagine,  "  That  the  chasm  here  is  to  be 
filled  -with  the  words  '  Sir  Samuel  Luke,'  because  the  line  be- 
fore it  is  often  syllables,  and  the  measure  of  the  verse  general- 
ly used  in  this  Poem  is  of  eight." 

VOL.  I.  7 


42  HUDIBRAS. 

To  whom  we  have  been  oft  compar'd  905 

For  person,  parts,  address,  and  beard ; 

Both  equally  reputed  stout. 

And  in  the  same  cause  both  have  fought : 

He  oft  in  such  attempts  as  these 

Came  off  with  glory  and  success  ;  9io 

Nor  will  we  fail  in  th'  execution, 

For  want  of  equal  resolution. 

Honour  is  like  a  widow,  won 

With  brisk  attempt  and  puttmg  on  ; 

With  ent'ring  manfully,  and  urging,  916 

Not  slow  approaches,  like  a  virgin. 

This  said,  as  yerst  the  Phrygian  knight, 
So  ours,  with  rusty  steel  did  smite 
His  Trojan  horse,  and  just  as  much 
He  mended  pace  upon  the  touch  ;  930 

But  from  his  empty  stomach  groan'd 
Just  as  that  hollow  beast  did  sound. 
And  angi-y  answer'd  from  behind. 
With  brandish'd  tail  and  blast  of  wind. 
So  have  I  seen,  with  armed  heel,  oaa 

A  wight  bestride  a  Commonweal, 
Wliile  stiU  the  more  he  kick'd  and  spurr'd, 
The  less  the  sullen  jade  has  stu-r'd. 


PART    I.      CANTO    II. 


4a 


PART    I.    CANTO    II. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

The  catalogue  and  character 
Of  th'  enemies'  best  men  of  war, 
Whom  in  a  bold  harangue  the  Knight 
Defies  and  challenges  to  fight : 
H'  encounters  Talgol,  routs  the  Bear, 
And  takes  the  Fiddler  prisoner, 
Conveys  him  to  enchanted  castle. 
There  shuts  him  fast  in  wooden  Bastile. 

There  was  an  ancient  sage  philosopher 

That  had  read  Alexander  Ross  over, 

And  swore  the  world,  as  he  could  prove, 

"Was  made  of  fighting  and  of  love. 

Just  so  Romances  are,  for  what  else  • 

Is  in  them  all  but  love  and  battles  ? 

O'  th'  first  of  these  w'  have  no  great  matter 

To  treat  of,  but  a  world  o'  th'  latter, 

In  which  to  do  the  injured  right 

"We  mean,  in  what  concerns  just  fight.  10 

Certes  our  authors  are  to  blame 

For  to  make  some  well-sounding  name 

A  pattern  fit  for  modern  knights 

To  copy  out  in  frays  and  fights 

(Like  those  that  a  whole  street  do  raze  u 

To  build  a  palace  in  the  place). 


44  HUDIBRAS. 

They  never  care  how  many  others 

They  kill,  without  regard  of  mothers, 

Or  wives,  or  children,  so  they  can 

Make  up  some  fierce  dead-doing  man,  20 

Compos'd  of  many  ingredient  valours. 

Just  like  the  manhood  of  nine  tailors : 

So  a  wild  Tartar,  when  he  spies 

A  man  that's  handsome,  valiant,  wise, 

If  he  can  kill  him,  thinks  t'  inherit  25 

His  wit,  his  beauty,  and  his  spirit ; 

As  if  just  so  much  he  enjoy 'd. 

As  in  another  is  desti'oy'd : 

For  when  a  giant's  slain  in  fight. 

And  mow'd  o'erthwart,  or  cleft  downright,  30 

It  is  a  heavy  case,  no  doubt, 

A  man  should  have  his  brains  beat  out. 

Because  he's  tall  and  has  large  bones. 

As  men  kill  beavers  for  their  stones. 

But  as  for  our  part,  we  shall  tell  85 

The  naked  truth  of  what  befell. 

And  as  an  equal  friend  to  both 

The  Knight  and  Bear,  but  more  to  Troth, 

With  neither  faction  shall  take  part, 

But  give  to  each  his  due  desert,  40 

And  never  coin  a  formal  lie  on't 

To  make  the  knight  o'ercorae  the  giant. 

This  b'ing  profest,  we've  hopes  enough. 

And  now  go  on  where  we  left  off. 

They  rode,  but  authors  having  not  45 

Detei'mrn'd  whether  pace  or  trot 


PART    I.       CANTO    II.  45 

(That  is  to  saj,  whether  tolhitation, 

As  they  do  term  't,  or  succussation), 

We  leave  it,  and  go  on,  as  now 

Suppose  they  did,  no  matter  how ;  60 

Yet  some,  from  subtle  hints,  have  got 

Mysterious  light  it  was  a  trot ; 

But  let  that  pass  :  they  now  begun 

To  spur  their  living  engines  on  : 

For  as  whipp'd  tops  and  bandy'd  baUs,  es 

The  learned  hold,  are  animals  ; 

So  horses  they  affirm  to  be 

Mere  engines  made  by  Geometry, 

And  were  invented  first  from  engines, 

As  Indian  Britains  were  from  Penguins.  60 

So  let  them  be,  and,  as  I  was  saying. 

They  their  live  engines  ply'd,  not  staying 

Until  they  reach'd  the  fatal  champam 

Which  th'  enemy  did  then  encamp  on ; 

The  dire  Pharsalian  plain,  where  battle  65 

Was  to  be  wag'd  'twixt  puissant  cattle, 

And  fierce,  auxiliary  men. 

That  came  to  aid  their  brethren, 

Who  now  began  to  take  the  field. 

As  Knight  from  ridge  of  steed  beheld.  70 

For  as  our  modern  wits  behold. 

Mounted  a  pick-back  on  the  old, 

Much  further  off,  much  further  he, 

Rais'd  on  his  aged  beast,  could  see ; 

Yet  not  sufiicient  to  descry  75 

V.  74.  Var.     '  From  off.' 


46  HUDIBRAS. 

All  postures  of  the  enemy, 

Wherefore  he  bids  the  Squire  ride  further, 

T'  observe  their  numbers  and  their  order, 

That,  when  their  motions  he  had  known, 

He  might  know  how  to  fit  liis  own.  so 

Mean-while  he  stopp'd  his  willing  steed. 

To  fit  himself  for  martial  deed  : 

Both  kinds  of  metal  he  prepar'd, 

Either  to  give  blows  or  to  ward ; 

Courage  and  steel,  both  of  great  force,  85 

Prepar'd  for  better  or  for  worse. 

His  death-charg'd  pistols  he  did  fit  well, 

Drawn  out  from  life-preserving  vittle  ; 

These  being  prim'd,  with  force  he  labour'd 

To  free  's  sword  from  retentive  scabbard,  90 

And  after  many  a  painful  pluck, 

From  rusty  durance  he  bail'd  tuck  : 

Then  shook  himself,  to  see  that  prowess 

In  scabbard  of  his  arms  sat  loose  ; 

And,  rais'd  upon  his  desp'rate  foot,  95 

On  stirrup-side  he  gaz'd  about. 

Portending  blood,  like  blazing  star. 

The  beacon  of  approaching  Avar. 

Ralpho  rode  on  with  no  less  speed 

Than  Hugo  in  the  forest  did  ;  100 

V.  85,  86.    Var.  '  Courage  within,  and  steel  without, 

To  give  and  to  receive  a  rout.' 
V.  92.     Var.  '  He  clear'd  at  length  the  rugged  tuck.' 
V.  99,  100.     Var.  '  The  Squire  advanc'd  with  greater  speed 
Than  could  b'  expected  from  his  steed: ' 


PABT   I.      CANTO    II.  47 

But  far  more  in  returning  made, 

For  now  the  foe  be  had  survey'd, 

Rang'd,  as  to  him  they  did  appear, 

With  van,  main-battle,  wings  and  rear. 

1'  th'  head  of  all  this  warlike  rabble,  los 

Crowdero  march'd  expert  and  able ; 

Instead  of  trumpet  and  of  drum, 

That  makes  the  warrior's  stomach  come. 

Whose  noise  whets  valour  sharp,  like  beer 

By  thunder  turn'd  to  vinegar  ;  no 

(For  if  a  trumpet  sound  or  drum  beat 

Who  has  not  a  month's  mind  to  combat  ?) 

A  squeaking  engine  he  apply'd 

Unto  his  neck,  on  north-east  side, 

Just  where  the  hangman  does  dispose  115 

To  special  friends  the  knot  of  noose  : 

For  'tis  great  grace  when  statesmen  straight 

Dispatch  a  friend,  let  others  wait. 

His  warped  ear  hung  o'er  the  strings, 

Which  was  but  souse  to  chitterlings  ;  120 

For  guts,  some  write,  ere  they  are  sodden, 

V.  101,  102.  Var.  But '  with  a  great  deal '  more  '  return'd,' 
For  now  the  foe  he  had  '  discern'd.' 

Y.  106.  So  called  from  '  croud,'  a  fiddle :  This  was  one 
Jackson,  a  milliner,  who  lived  in  the  New  Exchange  in  the 
Strand.  He  had  foi-merly  been  in  the  ser\^ce  of  the  Round- 
heads, and  had  lost  a  leg  in  it ;  this  brought  liim  to  decay,  so 
that  he  was  obliged  to  scrape  upon  a  fiddle,  from  one  ale-house 
to  another,  for  his  bread.  Mr.  Butler  very  judiciously  places 
him  at  the  liead  of  his  catalogue:  for  country  diversiou.?  are 
generally  attended  with  a  fiddler  or  bagpiper. 


48  HUDIBRAS. 

1 

Are  fit  for  music  or  for  pudden  ; 

From  whence  men  borrow  ev'ry  kind 

Of  minstrelsy  by  string  or  wind. 

His  grisly  beard  was  long  and  thick,  125 

Witli  wliich  he  strung  his  fiddlestick, 

For  he  to  horse-tail  scorn'd  to  owe 

For  what  on  his  o^vn  chin  did  grow ; 

Chiron,  the  four-legg'd  bard,  had  both 

A  beard  and  tail  of  his  own  growth,  130 

And  yet  by  authors  'tis  averr'd 

He  made  use  only  of  his  beard. 

In  Staffordshire,  where  vii-tuous  worth 

Does  raise  the  minstrelsy,  not  birth, 

Where  bulls  do  choose  the  boldest  king  135 

And  ruler  o'er  the  men  of  string 

(As  once  in  Persia,  'tis  said, 

Kings  were  proclaim'd  by  a  horse  that  neigh'd), 

He,  bravely  vent'ring  at  a  crown. 

By  chance  of  war  was  beaten  down,  140 

And  wounded  sore  ;  his  leg  then  broke 

Had  got  a  deputy  of  oak  : 

For  when  a  shin  in  fight  is  crept. 

The  knee  with  one  of  timber's  propt, 

Esteem'd  more  honourable  than  the  other,  us 

And  takes  place,  tliougli  the  younger  brother. 

Next  march'd  brave  Orsin,  famous  for 
Wise  conduct  and  success  in  war ; 

V.  147.  Var.  '  Next  follow'd.'  Joshua  Gosling,  who  kept 
bears  at  Paris-garden,  in  Southwark.  However,  says  Sir 
Roger,  he  stood  hard  and  fast  for  the  Rump  Parliament. 


PAKT    I.       CANTO    II.  49 

A  skilful  leader,  stout,  severe, 

Now  Marshal  to  the  champion  Bear.  iso 

"With  truncheon  tipp'd  with  iron  head, 

The  warrior  to  the  lists  he  led  ; 

With  solemn  march  and  stately  pace, 

But  far  more  grave  and  solemn  face  ; 

Grave  as  the  emperor  of  Pegu,  156 

Or  Spanish  potentate,  Don  Diego. 

This  leader  was  of  knowledge  great, 

Either  for  charge  or  for  retreat ; 

He  knew  when  to  fall  on  pell-mell, 

To  fall  back  and  retreat  as  well :  leo 

So  laAvyers,  lest  the  Bear  defendant 

And  plaintiff  Dog  should  make  an  end  on't, 

Do  stave  and  tail  with  writs  of  Error, 

Reverse  of  Judgment,  and  Demurrer, 

To  let  them  breathe  awhile,  and  then  165 

Cry  "Whoop  and  set  them  on  agen. 

As  Romulus  a  wolf  did  rear, 

So  he  was  dry-nurs'd  by  a  bear,  ^ 

That  fed  him  with  the  purchas'd  prey 

Of  many  a  fierce  and  bloody  fray ;  170 

Bred  up,  where  discipline  most  rare  is, 

In  military  garden  Paris  : 

For  soldiers  heretofore  did  grow 

In  gardens  just  as  weeds  do  now, 

Until  some  splay-foot  politicians  175 


V.  159, 160.    Var.  '  Knew  when  t'  engage  his  bear  pell-mell, 
And  when  to  brina:  him  off  as  well.' 


50  HUDIBRAS. 

T'  Apollo  ofFer'd  up  petitions 

For  licensing  a  new  invention 

Th'  had  found  out  of  an  antique  engine, 

To  root  out  all  the  weeds  that  grow 

In  public  gardens,  at  a  blow,  iso 

And  leave  th'  herbs  standing.     Quoth  Sir  Sun, 

My  friends,  that  is  not  to  be  done. 

Not  done  !  quoth  Statesman ;  Yes,  an't  please  ye, 

When  'tis  once  known  you'll  say  'tis  easy. 

Why  then  let's  know  it,  quoth  Apollo :  las 

We'll  beat  a  drum,  and  they'll  all  follow. 

A  drum !  (quoth  Phoebus)  Troth,  that's  true, 

A  pretty  invention,  quaint  and  new : 

But  though  of  voice  and  instrument 

We  are  th'  undoubted  president,    ,  190 

We  such  loud  music  do  not  profess, 

The  Devil's  master  of  that  office. 

Where  it  must  pass ;  if 't  be  a  dx'um. 

He'll  sign  it  with  Gler.  Pari.  Dom.  Com.  ; 

To  him  apply  yourselves,  and  he  195 

Will  soon  dispatch  you  for  his  fee. 

They  did  so,  but  it  prov'd  so  ill 

Th'  had  better  let  'em  grow  there  still. 

But  to  resume  what  we  discoursing 

Were  on  before,  that  is,  stout  Orsin :  qoo 

That  which  so  oft  by  sundry  writers 

v.  194.  The  House  of  Commons,  even  before  the  Rump 
had  murdered  the  King,  and  expelled  the  House  of  Lords, 
usurped  many  branches  of  the  Koyal  prerogative,  and  particu- 
larly this  for  granting  licenses  for  new  mventions. 


PART    I.      CANTO    II.  61 

Has  been  apply'd  t'  almost  all  figliters, 

More  justly  may  b'  ascrib'd  to  this 

Than  any  other  warrior,  (viz.) 

None  ever  acted  both  parts  bolder,  205 

Both  of  a  chieftain  and  a  soldier. 

He  was  of  great  descent,  and  high 

For  splendour  and  antiquity, 

And  from  celestial  origine 

Deriv'd  himself  in  a  right  line :  910 

Not  as  the  ancient  heroes  did, 

Who,  that  their  base  births  might  be  hid 

(Knowing  they  were  of  doubtful  gender, 

And  that  they  came  in  at  a  windore). 

Made  Jupiter  himself  and  othei's  215 

O'  th'  gods  gallants  to  their  own  mothers, 

To  get  on  them  a  race  of  champions, 

(Of  which  old  Homer  first  made  lampoons). 

Arctophylax,  in  northern  sj^here. 

Was  his  undoubted  ancestor ;  220 

From  him  his  great  forefathers  came, 

And  in  all  ages  bore  his  name. 

Learned  he  was  in  med'c'nal  lore. 

For  by  his  side  a  pouch  he  wore 

Replete  with  strange  hermetic  powder,  225 

That  wounds  nine  miles  point-blank  would  solder ; 

By  skilful  chemist  with  great  cost 

Extracted  from  a  rotten  post ; 


V.  211.    This  is  one  instance  of  the  Authoi-'s  making  great 
things  little,  though  his  talent  lay  chiefly  the  other  way. 


52 


HUDIBRAS. 


But  of  a  heav'nlier  influence 

Than  that  which  mountebanks  dispense,  aso 

Though  by  Promethean  fire  made  ; 

As  they  do  quack  that  drive  that  trade. 

For  as,  when  slovens  do  amiss 

At  others'  doors,  by  stool  or  piss, 

The  learned  write  a  red-hot  spit  235 

B'ing  prudently  apply'd  to  it 

Will  convey  mischief  from  the  dung 

Unto  the  pai't  that  did  the  wrong. 

So  this  did  healing ;  and,  as  sure 

As  that  did  mischief,  this  would  cure.  240 

Thus  virtuous  Orsin  Avas  endu'd 
With  learning,  conduct,  fortitude 
Incomparable ;  and  as  the  prince 
Of  poets,  Homer,  sung  long  since, 
A  skilful  leech  is  better  far  948 

Than  half  a  hundred  men  of  war ; 
So  he  appear'd,  and  by  his  skill, 
No  less  than  dmt  of  sword,  could  kill. 

The  gallant  Bruin  march'd  next  him, 
With  visage  formidably  grim,  aso 

And  rugged  as  a  Saracen, 
Or  Turk  of  Mahomet's  own  kin ; 
Clad  in  a  mantle  delle  guerre 
Of  rough  impenetrable  fur, 

And  in  his  nose,  Uke  Lidian  king,  asa 

He  wore,  for  ornament,  a  ring ; 

V.  238.     Var.  Unto  the  '  breech.' 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  53 

About  his  iieck  a  threefold  gorget, 

As  rough  as  trebled  leathern  target ; 

Armed,  as  heralds,  cant  and  langued, 

Or,  as  the  vulgar  say,  sharp-fanged :  260 

For  as  the  teeth  in  beasts  of"  prey 

Are  swords,  with  which  they  fight  in  fray, 

So  swords,  in  men  of  war,  are  teeth 

Which  they  do  eat  their  vittle  with. 

He  was  by  birth,  some  authors  write,  265 

A  Russian,  some  a  Muscovite, 

And  'mong  the  Cossacks  had  been  bred, 

Of  whom  we  in  Diurnals  read. 

That  serve  to  fill  up  pages  here, 

As  with  their  bodies  ditches  there.  270 

Scrimansky  was  his  cousin-german, 

With  whom  he  serv'd,  and  fed  on  vermin ; 

And  when  these  fail'd  he'd  suck  his  claws, 

And  quarter  himself  upon  his  paws  : 

And  though  his  countrymen,  the  Huns,  275 

Did  stew  their  meat  between  their  bums 

And  til'  horses'  backs  o'er  which  they  straddle, 

And  ev'ry  man  ate  up  his  saddle  ; 

He  was  not  half  so  nice  as  they. 

But  ate  it  raw  when  't  came  in  's  way.  280 

H'  had  trac'd  the  countries  far  and  near 

More  than  Le  Blanc  the  traveller, 

Who  Avrites,  he  spous'd  in  Lidia, 

Of  noble  house  a  lady  gay. 

And  got  on  her  a  race  of  worthies  S85 

As  stout  as  any  upon  earth  is. 


290 


54  HUDIBRAS. 

Full  many  a  fight  for  him  between 

Talgol  and  Orsin  oft  had  been, 

Each  striving  to  deserve  the  crown 

Of  a  sav'd  citizen ;  the  one 

To  guard  his  Bear,  the  other  fought 

To  aid  his  Dog ;  both  made  more  stout 

By  sev'ral  spurs  of  neighborhood. 

Church-fellow-membership,  and  blood : 

But  Talgol,  mortal  foe  to  cows,  295 

Never  got  aught  from  him  but  blows, 

Blows  hard  and  heavy,  such  as  he 

Had  lent,  repaid  with  usury. 

Yet  Talgol  was  of  courage  stout. 
And  vanquish'd  oft'ner  than  he  fought ;  300 

Liur'd  to  labour,  sweat  and  toil. 
And,  like  a  champion,  shone  with  oil : 
Right  many  a  widow  his  keen  blade, 
And  many  fatherless,  had  made  ; 
He  many  a  boar  and  huge  dun-cow  305 

Did,  like  another  Guy,  o'erthrow : 
But  Guy  with  him  in  fight  compar'd, 
Had  like  the  boar  or  dun-cow  far'd 
With  greater  troops  of  sheep  h'  had  fought 
Than  Ajax  or  bold  Don  Quixote;  310 

And  many  a  serpent  of  fell  kind, 
With  wings  before  and  stings  behind, 
Subdu'd ;  as,  poets  say,  long  agone 

V.  299.  A  butcher  m  Newgate-market,  who  afterwards  ob- 
tained a  captain's  commission  for  liis  rebellious  bravery  at 
Naseby,  as  Sir  R.  L'Estrange  observes. 


I'AUT    I.      CANTO    II.  00 

Bold  Sir  George  Saint  George  did  the  Dragon. 

Nor  engine,  nor  device  polemic,  sis 

Disease,  nor  doctor  epidemic, 

Though  stor'd  with  deletery  med'cines, 

(Which  whosoever  took  is  dead  since) 

E'er  sent  so  vast  a  colony 

To  both  the  under  worlds  as  he  ;  sao 

For  he  w^as  of  that  noble  trade 

That  demi-gods  and  heroes  made, 

Slaughter,  and  knocking  on  the  head, 

The  trade  to  which  they  all  were  bred ; 

And  is,  like  others,  glorious  when  325 

'Tis  great  and  large,  but  base,  if  mean : 

The  former  rides  in  triumph  for  it, 

The  latter  in  a  two-wheel'd  chariot. 

For  daring  to  profane  a  thing 

So  sacred  with  vile  bungling.  330 

Next  these  the  brave  Magnano  came, 
Magnano  great  in  martial  fame  ; 
Yet  when  with  Orsin  he  wag'd  fight, 
'Tis  sung  he  got  but  little  by  't : 
Yet  he  was  fierce  as  forest  boar,  335 

Whose  spoils  upon  his  back  he  wore. 
As  thick  as  Ajax'  sevenfold  shield. 
Which  o'er  his  brazen  arms  he  held : 
But  brass  was  feeble  to  resist 

V.  331.  Simeon  Wait,  a  tinker,  as  famous  an  Independent 
preacher  as  Burroughs,  who,  with  equal  blasphemy  to  his 
Lord  of  Hosts,  would  style  Oliver  Cromwell  the  Archangel 
giving  battle  to  the  Devil. 


56  HUDIBRAS. 

The  fuiy  of  his  armed  fist,  340 

Nor  could  the  hardest  iron  hold  out 
Against  his  blows,  but  they  would  through  't. 

In  magic  he  Av^as  deeply  read, 
A-S  he  that  made  the  brazen-head ; 
/Profoundly  skill'd  in  the  black  art,  345 

As  English  Merlin  for  his  heart ; 
But  far  more  skilful  in  the  spheres 
Than  he  was  at  the  sieve  and  shears. 
He  could  transform  himself  in  colour, 
As  like  the  Devil  as  a  collier ;  350 

As  like  the  hypocrites  in  show 
Ai-e  to  true  saints,  or  crow  to  crow. 

Of  warlike  engines  he  was  author, 
Devis'd  for  quick  disjoatch  of  slaughter: 
The  cannon,  blunderbuss,  and  saker,  355 

He  was  th'  inventor  of,  and  maker: 
The  trumpet  and  the  kettle-drum 
Did  both  from  his  invention  come. 
He  was  the  first  that  e'er  did  teach 
To  make,  and  how  to  stop  a  breach.  360 

A  lance  he  bore  with  iron  pike, 
Th'  one  half  would  thrust,  the  other  strike ; 
And  when  their  forces  he  had  join'd, 
He  scorn'd  to  turn  his  parts  behind. 

He  TruUa  lov'd,  Trulla  more  bright  365 

V.  365.  The  daughter  of  James  Spenser,  debauched  by 
Magnano  the  tinker;  so  called  because  the  tinker's  wife  or 
mistress  was  commonly  called  his  'trull.'  See  "The  Cox- 
comb," a  comedy. 


PART    r.       CANTO    II.  0/ 

Than  burnish' (I  armour  of  her  knight ; 

A  bokl  virago,  stout  and  tall, 

As  Joan  of  France,  or  English  Mall: 

Through  perils  both  of  wind  and  limb, 

Through  thick  and  thin  she  foilow'd  him,  sio 

In  ev'ry  adventure  h'  undertook, 

And  never  him  nor  it  foi'sook  : 

At  breech  of  wall,  or  hedge  surprize, 

She  shar'd  i'  th'  hazard  and  the  prize  ; 

At  beating  quarters  up,  or  forage,  37s 

Behav'd  herself  with  matchless  courage, 

And  laid  about  in  fight  more  busily 

Than  th'  Amazonian  Dame  Penthesile. 

And  though  some  critics  here  cry  shame, 

And  say  our  authors  are  to  blame,  380 

That  (spite  of  all  philosophers, 

Who  hold  no  females  stout  but  bears, 

And  heretofore  did  so  abhor 

That  women  should  pretend  to  war, 

They  would  not  suffer  the  stout'st  dame  385 

To  swear  by  Hercules's  name) 

Make  feeble  ladies,  in  their  works, 

To  fio;ht  like  termagants  and  Turks ; 

To  lay  their  native  arms  aside. 


v.  368.  Alluding  probably  to  Mary  Carlton,  called  '  Kent- 
ish Moll,'  but  more  commonly  '  The  German  Princess; '  a  per- 
son notorious  at  the  time  this  First  Part  of  Hudibras  was 
published.  She  was  transported  to  Jamaica,  1671,  but  return- 
ing from  transportation  too  soon,  she  was  hanged  at  Tyburn, 
Jan.  22,  1672-3. 

VOL.  I.  8 


58  HUDIBRAS. 

Their  modesty,  and  ride  astride  ;  3JM 

To  run  a-tilt  at  men,  and  wield 

Their  naked  tools  in  open  field ; 

As  stout  Armida,  bold  Thalestris, 

And  she  that  would  have  been  the  mistress 

Of  Gundibert,  but  he  had  grace,  395 

And  rather  took  a  country  lass ; 

They  say  'tis  false  without  all  sense, 

But  of  pernicious  consequence 

To  government,  which  they  suppose 

Can  never  be  upheld  in  prose ;  400 

Strip  Nature  naked  to  the  skin, 

You'll  find  about  her  no  such  thing : 

It  may  be  so,  yet  what  we  tell 

Of  TruUa  that's  improbable. 

Shall  be  depos'd  by  those  have  seen  't,  405 

Or,  what's  as  good,  produc'd  in  print ; 

And  if  they  will  not  take  our  word, 

We'll  prove  it  true  upon  record. 

The  upright  Cerdon  next  advanc't, 
Of  all  his  race  the  valiant'st ;  410 

Cerdon  the  Great,  renown'd  in  song. 
Like  Herc'les,  for  repair  of  wrong : 

V.  409.  '  Cerdon.'  A  one-eyed  cobbler,  like  his  brother 
Colonel  Hewson.  The  poet  obsen-es  that  his  chief  talent  lay 
in  preaching.  Is  it  not  then  indecent,  and  beyond  the  rules 
of  decorum,  to  introduce  him  into  such  rough  company  ?  No : 
it  is  probable  he  had  but  newly  set  up  the  trade  of  a  teacher, 
and  we  may  conclude  that  the  poet  did  not  think  that  he  had 
BO  much  sanctity  as  to  debar  him  the  pleasure  of  his  beloved 
diversion  of  bear-baiting. 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  59 

He  rais'd  the  low,  and  fortify'd 

The  weak  against  the  strongest  side : 

HI  has  he  read  that  never  hit  4  is 

On  him  in  Muses'  deathless  writ. 

He  had  a  weapon  keen  and  fierce, 

That  through  a  bull-hide  shield  would  pierce, 

And  cut  it  in  a  thousand  pieces. 

Though  tougher  than  the  Knight  of  Greece  his,  420 

With  whom  his  black-thumb'd  ancestor 

"Was  comrade  in  the  ten-years'  war : 

For  when  the  restless  Greeks  sat  down 

So  many  years  before  Troy  town, 

And  were  renown'd,  as  Homer  writes,  42» 

For  well-sol'd  boots  no  less  than  fights, 

They  ow'd  that  glory  only  to 

His  ancestor,  that  made  them  so. 

Fast  fi-iend  he  was  to  reformation. 

Until  'twas  Avorn  quite  out  of  fashion ;  430 

Next  rectifier  of  wry  law, 

And  would  make  three  to  cure  one  flaw. 

Learned  he  Avas,  and  could  take  note. 

Transcribe,  collect,  translate,  and  quote : 

But  preaching  was  his  chiefest  talent,  435 

V.  435.  Mechanics  of  all  sorts  were  then  preachers,  and 
some  of  them  much  followed  and  admired  by  the  mob.  "  I 
am  to  tell  thee,  Christian  Eeader,"  says  Dr.  Featley,  Preface 
to  his  "  Dipper  Dipped,"  wrote  1645,  and  piiblished  1647,  p.  1, 
"  this  new  year  of  new  changes,  never  heard  of  in  former 
ages,  namely,  of  stables  turned  into  temples,  and,  I  wiU  beg 
leave  to  add,  temples  turned  into  stables  (as  was  that  of  St. 
Paul's,  and  many  more),  stalls  into  qukes,  shop-boards  into 


60  HUDIBRAS. 

Or  argument,  in  Avliich  being  valiant, 
He  us'd  to  lay  about  and  stickle, 
Like  ram  or  bull,  at  Conventicle : 
For  disputants,  like  rams  and  bulls. 
Do  fight  with  arms  that  spring  from  sculls.        440 
Last  Colon  came,  bold  man  of  war, 

communion-tables,  tubs  into  pulpits,  aprons  into  linen  ephods, 
and  mechanics  of  the  lowest  rank  into  priests  of  the  high 
places.  —  I  wonder  that  our  door-posts  and  walls  sweat  not, 
upon  which  such  notes  as  these  have  been  lately  affixed ;  on 
such  a  day  such  a  brewer's  clerk  exerciseth,  such  a  tailor 
expoundeth,  such  a  waterman  teacheth.  —  If  cooks,  instead 
of  mincing  their  meat,  fall  upon  dividing  of  the  Word ;  if 
taUors  leap  up  from  the  shop-board  into  the  pulpit,  and  patch 
up  sermons  out  of  stolen  shreds ;  if  not  only  of  the  lowest  of 
the  people,  as  in  Jeroboam's  time,  priests  are  consecrated  to 
the  Most  High  God  —  do  we  marvel  to  see  such  confusion  in 
the  Church  as  there  is?  "  They  are  humorously  girded  in  a 
tract  entitled,  '  The  Reformado  precisely  character'd,  by  a 
modern  Churchwarden,'  p.  11.  "Here  are  felt-makers,"  says 
he,  "  who  can  roundly  deal  with  the  blockheads  and  neutral 
dimicasters  of  the  world ;  cobblers  who  can  give  good  rules 
for  upright  walking,  and  handle  Scripture  to  a  bristle ;  coach- 
men who  know  how  to  lash  the  beastly  enormities,  and  curb 
the  head-strong  insolences  of  this  bratish  age,  stoutly  exhort- 
ing us  to  stand  up  for  the  truth,  lest  the  wheel  of  destruction 
roundly  oveiTun  us.  We  have  weavers  that  can  sweetly 
uiform  us  of  the  shuttle  swiftness  of  the  times,  and  practical- 
ly tread  out  the  vicissitude  of  all  sublunary  things,  till  the 
web  of  our  life  be  cut  off:  and  here  are  mechanics  of  my 
profession  who  can  separate  the  pieces  of  salvation  from  those 
of  damnation,  measure  out  every  man's  portion,  and  cut  it 
out  by  a  thread,  substantially  pressing  the  points,  till  they 
have  fashionably  tilled  up  their  work  with  a  well-bottomed 
conclusion." 
V.  441.    '  Colon.'    Ned  Perry,  an  hostler. 


PART   I.     CANTO   II.  61 

Destin'd  to  blows  by  fatal  star, 

Riglit  expert  in  command  of  horse, 

But  cruel,  and  without  remorse. 

That  which  of  Centaur  long  ago  445 

Was  said,  and  has  been  wrested  to 

Some  other  knights,  was  true  of  this ; 

He  and  his  horse  were  of  a  piece. 

One  spirit  did  inform  them  both, 

The  self-same  vigour,  fury,  wroth ;  450 

Yet  he  was  much  the  rougher  part. 

And  always  had  a  harder  heart, 

Although  liis  horse  had  been  of  those 

That  fed  on  man's  flesh,  as  fame  goes : 

Strange  food  for  horse !  and  yet,  alas  !  465 

It  may  be  true,  for  flesh  is  grass. 

Sturdy  he  was,  and  no  less  able 

Than  Hercules  to  clean  a  stable; 

As  great  a  drover,  and  as  great 

A  critic  too,  in  hog  or  neat.  460 

He  ripp'd  the  womb  up  of  his  mother, 

Dame  Tellus,  'cause  she  wanted  fother 

And  provender,  wherewith  to  feed 

Himself  and  his  less  cruel  steed. 

It  was  a  question  whether  he  465 

Or  's  horse  were  of  a  family 

More  worshipful ;  till  antiquaries 

(After  they'd  almost  por'd  out  their  eyes) 

Did  very  learnedly  decide 

The  bus'ness  on  the  horse's  side,  470 

And  prov'd  not  only  horse,  but  cows, 


62  HUDIBRAS. 

Nay  pigs,  were  of  the  elder  house : 

For  beasts,  when  man  was  but  a  piece 

Of  earth  himself,  did  th'  earth  possess. 

These  worthies  were  the  chief  that  led  47s 

The  combatants,  each  in  the  head 

Of  his  command,  with  arms  and  rage 

Ready  and  longing  to  engage. 

The  num'rous  rabble  was  drawn  out 

Of  sev'ral  counties  round  about,  480 

From  villages  remote,  and  shires 

Of  east  and  western  hemispheres. 

From  foreign  parishes  and  regions, 

Of  different  manners,  speech,  religions, 

Came  men  and  mastiffs ;  some  to  fight  485 

For  fame  and  honour,  some  for  sight. 

And  now  the  field  of  death,  the  lists. 

Were  enter'd  by  antagonists. 

And  blood  was  ready  to  be  broach'd. 

When  Hudibras  in  haste  approach'd,  490 

With  Squire  and  weapons  to  attack  'em ; 

But  first  thus  from  his  horse  bespake  'em. 

I    Wliat  rage,  0  Citizens  !  what  fury. 

Doth  you  to  these  dire  actions  hurry? 

What  oestrum,  what  phrenetic  mood,  499 

Makes  you  thus  lavish  of  your  blood. 

While  the  proud  Vies  your  trophies  boast, 

And  unreveng'd  walks  Waller's  ghost  ? 


V.  495.     '  Oestrum  '  signifies  the  gad-bee  or  horse-fly. 
V.  497.    Sir  W.  Waller  was  defeated  at  the  Devises. 


PART   I.     CANTO    II.  63 

Wliat  towns,  what  garrisons,  might  you 

With  hazard  of  this  blood  subdue,  ooo 

Which  now  y'  are  bent  to  throw  away 

In  vain  untriumphable  fray  ? 

Shall  saints  in  civil  bloodshed  wallow 

Of  saints,  and  let  the  cause  he  fallow  ? 

The  cause,  for  which  we  fought  and  swore         505 

So  boldly,  shall  we  now  give  o'er  ? 

Then,  because  quarrels  still  are  seen 

With  oaths  and  swearings  to  begin, 

The  Solemn  League  and  Covenant 

Will  seem  a  mere  God-dam-me  rant,  5io 

And  we  that  took  it,  and  have  fought, 

As  lewd  as  drunkards  that  fall  out : 

For  as  we  make  war  for  the  King 

Against  himself,  the  self-same  thing, 

Some  will  not  stick  to  swear,  we  do  515 

For  God  and  for  Rehgion  too  : 

For,  if  Bear-baiting  we  allow. 

What  good  can  Eeformation  do  ? 

The  blood  and  treasure  that's  laid  out 

V.  503,  504.  Mr.  Walker  observes,  "  That  all  the  cheating, 
covetous,  ambitious  persons  of  the  land  were  united  together 
under  the  title  of  the  Godly,  the  Samts,  and  shared  the  fat  of 
the  land  betv,'een  them ;  "  and  he  calls  them  the  Saints  who 
■were  canonized  no-where  but  in  the  Devil's  Calendar. 

V.  513,  514.  The  Presbyterians,  in  all  their  wars  against 
the  king,  maintained  still  that  they  fought  for  hhn;  for  they 
pretended  to  distinguish  his  pohtical  person  from  his  natural 
one:  his  political  person,  they  said,  must  be  and  was  with 
the  Parliament,  though  his  natural  person  was  at  war  with 
them. 


64  HUDIBRAS. 

Is  thrown  away,  and  goes  for  nought.  520 

Are  these  the  fruits  o'  th'  Protestation, 

The  prototype  of  Reformation, 

Which  all  the  saints,  and  some,  since  martyrs, 

"Wore  in  their  hats  like  wedding-garters, 

When  'twas  resolved  by  either  House  52a 

Six  Members'  quarrel  to  espouse  ? 

Did  they  for  this  draw  down  the  rabble, 

With  zeal  and  noises  formidable. 

And  make  all  cries  about  the  town 

Join  throats  to  cry  the  Bishops  down  ?  ssi 

Who  having  round  begirt  the  palace, 

(As  once  a  month  they  do  the  gallows), 

As  Members  gave  the  sign  about. 

Set  up  their  thx'oats  with  hideous  shout. 

When  tinkers  bawl'd  aloud  to  settle  535 

Church-Discipline,  for  patching  kettle  ; 

No  sow-gelder  did  blow  his  horn 

To  geld  a  cat,  but  cry'd  Reform ; 

The  oyster-women  lock'd  their  fish  up. 

And  trudg'd  away  to  cry  No  Bishop  ;  aio 

The  mouse-trap  men  laid  save-alls  by, 

And  'gainst  Ev'l  Counsellors  did  cry  ; 

Botchers  left  old  clothes  in  the  lurch. 

And  fell  to  turn  and  patch  the  Church  ; 

V.  530.  "  Good  Lord!  "  (says  the  '  True  Informer,'  p.  12,) 
''  what  a  deal  of  dirt  was  thrown  in  the  Bishops'  faces !  —  what 
infamous  ballads  were  sung !  —  what  a  thick  cloud  of  epideroL 
cal  hatred  hung  suddenly  over  them !  so  far,  that  a  dog  with 
a  black  and  white  face  was  called  a  '  Bishop.'  " 


PART    I.      CANTO    II.  65 

Some  cry'd  the  Covenant,  instead  545 

Of  pudding-pies  and  gingerbread  ; 

Ajid  some  for  brooms,  old  boots  and  shoes, 

Bawl'd  out  to  purge  the  Common-House  ; 

Instead  of  kitchen-stuff,  some  cry 

A  Gospel-preaching  ministry  ;  sso 

And  some  for  old  suits,  coats,  or  cloak, 

No  Surphces  nor  Service-book  : 

A  strange  harmonious  inclination 

Of  all  degrees  to  Reformation. 

And  is  this  all  ?     Is  this  the  end  555 

To  which  these  carr'mgs  on  did  tend  ? 

Ilath  PubHc  faith,  hke  a  young  heir, 

For  this  tak'n  up  all  sorts  of  ware, 

And  run  int'  ev'ry  tradesman's  book, 

Till  both  turn'd  bankrupts  and  are  broke  ?         seo 

Did  Saints  for  this  bring  in  their  plate, 

And  crowd  as  if  they  came  too  late  ? 

For,  when  they  thought  the  cause  had  need  on't, 

Happy  was  he  that  could  be  rid  on't. 

Did  they  coin  piss-pots,  bowls,  and  flaggons,      565 

Int'  officers  of  horse  and  dragoons  ? 

And  into  pikes  and  musqueteers 

Stamp  beakers,  cups,  and  porringers  ? 


V.  553,  554.  Those  flights,  which  seem  most  extravagant 
in  our  Poet,  were  really  excelled  by  matter  of  fact.  The  Scots 
(in  their  '  Large  Declaration,'  1637,  p.  41)  begin  their  petition 
against  the  Common  Prayer-Book  thus :  —  "  We  men,  women, 
and  childi-en,  and  servants,  having  considered,"  &c.  '  Foulis's 
ffist.  of  Wicked  Plots.' 


66  HUDIBRAS. 

A  thimble,  bodkin,  and  a  spoon, 

Did  start  up  living  men  as  soon  570 

As  in  the  furnace  they  were  thrown, 

Just  like  the  dragon's  teeth  being  sown. 

Then  was  the  Cause  of  gold  and  plate, 

The  Brethren's  oif'rings,  consecrate, 

Like  th'  Hebrew  calf,  and  down  before  it  575 

The  Saints  fell  prostrate,  to  adore  it : 

So  say  the  Wicked  —  and  will  you 

Make  that  sarcasmus  scandal  true 

By  running  after  Dogs  and  Bears, 

Beasts  more  unclean  than  calves  or  steers  ?       58O 

Have  pow'rful  Preachers  ply'd  their  tongues, 

And  laid  themselves  out  and  theu*  lungs  ; 

Us'd  all  means,  both  direct  and  sinister, 

I'  th'  pow'r  of  Gospel-preaching  Minister  ? 

Have  they  invented  tones  to  win  sss 

The  women  and  make  them  draw  in 

The  men,  as  Indians  with  a  female 

Tame  elephant  inveigle  the  male  ? 

Have  they  told  Prov'dence  what  it  must  do, 

V.  589.  It  was  a  common  practice  to  inform  God  of  the 
transactions  of  the  times.  "  Oh !  my  Good  Lord  God,"  says 
Mr.  G.  Swathe,  '  Prayers,'  p.  12,  "  I  hear  the  King  hath  set 
up  his  standard  at  York  against  the  Parharaent  and  city  of 
London.  —  Look  thou  upon  them,  take  their  cause  into  thine 
own  hand ;  appear  thou  in  the  cause  of  thy  Saints,  the  cause 
in  hand.  —  It  is  thy  cause,  Lord.  We  know  that  the  Kuig 
is  misled,  deluded,  and  deceived  by  his  Popish,  Ai-minian, 
and  temporising,  rebellious,  malignant  faction  and  party," 
&c.  "  They  would,"  says  Dr.  Echard,  "  in  their  prayers  and 
sermons,  tell  God,  that  they  would  be  willing  to  be  at  any 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  67 

Whom  to  avoid,  and  whom  to  trust  to  ?  590 

Discover'd  th'  Enemy's  design, 

And  which  way  best  to  countermine  ? 

Prescrib'd  what  ways  it  hath  to  work, 

Or  it  will  ne'er  advance  the  Kirk  ? 

Told  it  the  news  o'  th'  last  express,  595 

And  after  good  or  bad  success 

Made  prayers,  not  so  like  petitions 

charge  and  trouble  for  him,  and  to  do  as  it  were  any  kmdness 
for  the  Lord ;  the  Lord  might  now  trust  them,  and  rely  upon  them, 
they  should  not  fail  him ;  they  should  not  be  unmindful  of  his 
business ;  his  works  should  not  stand  still,  nor  his  designs  be  ne- 
glected. They  must  needs  say  that  they  had  formerly  received 
some  favours  from  God,  and  have  been  as  it  were  beholden  to  the 
Almighty ;  but  they  did  not  much  question  but  they  should 
find  some  opportunity  of  making  some  amends  for  the  many 
good  things,  and  (as  I  may  so  say)  civiUties  which  they  had 
received  from  him.  Indeed,  as  for  those  that  are  weak  in  the 
Faith,  and  are  yet  but  babes  m  Christ,  it  is  fit  that  they  should 
keep  at  some  distance  from  God,  should  kneel  before  him,  and 
stand  (as  I  may  say)  cap  in  hand  to  the  Almighty:  but  as  for 
those  that  are  strong  in  all  Gifts,  and  grown  up  in  all  Grace, 
and  are  come  to  a  fulness  and  ripeness  in  the  Lord  Jesus,  it  is 
comely  enough  to  take  a  great  chah-,  and  sit  at  the  end  of  the 
table,  and,  with  their  cock'd  hats  on  their  heads,  to  say,  God, 
we  thought  it  not  amiss  to  call  upon  thee  this  evening,  and  let 
thee  know  how  affairs  stand.  We  have  been  very  watchful 
since  we  were  last  -^vith  thee,  and  they  are  in  a  very  hopeful 
condition.  We  hope  that  thou  wilt  not  forget  us ;  for  we  are 
very  thoughtful  of  thy  concerns.  We  do  somewhat  long  to 
hear  from  thee ;  and  if  thou  pleasest  to  give  us  such  a  tiling 
('  Victoi-y ' ),  we  shall  be  (as  I  may  so  say)  good  to  thee  in  some- 
tliing  else  when  it  lies  in  our  way."  See  a  remarkable  Scotch 
Prayer  much  to  the  same  pui-pose,  '  Scourge,'  by  Mr.  Lewis, 
No.  XVL  p.  130,  edit.  1717. 


G8  HUDIBRAS. 

As  overtures  and  propositions 

(Such  as  the  Army  did  present 

To  their  Creator,  th'  Parrament),  eoe 

In  which  they  freely  will  confess 

They  will  not,  cannot  acquiesce, 

Unless  the  Work  be  carry'd  on 

In  the  same  way  they  have  begun, 

By  setting  Church  and  Commonweal      .  6O6 

All  on  a  flame,  bright  as  their  zeal, 

On  which  the  Saints  were  all  agog, 

And  all  this  for  a  Bear  and  Dog  ? 

The  Parl'ament  drew  up  petitions 

To  'tself,  and  sent  them,  like  commissions,         eio 

To  well-aifected  persons  down, 

V.  602.  Alluding  probably  to  their  profane  expostulations 
•with  God  from  the  pulpit.  Mr.  Vines,  in  St.  Clement's  Church, 
near  Temple-bar,  used  the  following  words :  "  0  Lord,  thou 
hast  never  given  us  a  victory  this  long  while,  for  all  our  fre- 
quent fasting.  What  dost  thou  mean,  0  Lord,  to  fling  into  a 
ditch,  and  there  to  leave  us?"  And  one  Robinson,  in  his 
prayer  at  Southampton,  Aug.  25,  1642,  expressed  himself  in 
the  following  manner:  "  0  God,  0  God,  many  are  the  hands 
that  are  lift  up  against  us,  but  there  is  one  God,  it  is  thou  thy- 
self, 0  Father,  who  does  us  more  mischief  than  they  all." 
They  seemed  to  encourage  this  profanity  in  their  public  ser- 
mons. "  Gather  upon  God,"  says  Mr.  K.  Harris,  '  Fast  Ser- 
mons before  the  Commons,'  "  and  hold  him  to  it,  as  Jacob  did: 
press  him  with  his  precepts,  with  his  promises,  with  his  hand, 
with  his  seal,  with  his  oath,  till  we  do  Bva-coTTdv,  as  some 
Greek  Fathers  boldly  speak ;  that  is,  if  I  may  speak  it  rev- 
erently enough,  put  the  Lord  out  of  countenance ;  put  him, 
as  you  would  say,  to  the  blush,  unless  we  be  masters  of  our 
requests." 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  69 

In  every  city  and  great  town, 
"With  pow'r  to  levy  horse  and  men, 
Only  to  bring  them  back  agen  ? 
For  this  did  many,  many  a  mile,  6i5 

Kide  manfully  in  rank  and  file, 
With  papers  in  their  hats,  that  show'd 
As  if  they  to  the  pill'ry  rode  ? 
Have  all  these  courses,  these  efforts, 
Been  try'd  by  people  of  all  sorts,  620 

Velis  et  remis,  omnibus  nervis, 
And  all  t'  advance  the  Cause's  service  ; 
And  shall  all  now  be  thrown  away 
In  petulent  intestine  fray  ? 

Shall  we,  that  in  the  Cov'nant  swore  ess 

Each  man  of  us  to  run  before 
Another,  still  in  Reformation 
Give  Dogs  and  Bears  a  dispensation  ? 
How  wiU  Dissenting  Brethren  relish  it  ? 
Wliat  mil  Malignants  say  ?    Videlicet,  630 

That  each  man  swore  to  do  his  best 
To  damn  and  perjure  all  the  rest ; 
And  bid  the  devil  take  the  hin'most. 
Which  at  this  race  is  like  to  win  most. 
They'll  say  our  bus'ness  to  Reform  635 

The  Church  and  State,  is  but  a  worm  ; 
For  to  subscribe,  unsight  unseen. 
To  an  unknown  Church  discipline. 
What  is  it  else  but  beforehand 
T'  engage  and  after  understand  ?  640 

For  when  we  swore  to  caiTy  on 


70  HUDIBEAS. 

The  present  Reformation, 

According  to  the  purest  mode 

Of  churches  best  reform'd  abx'oad,- 

Wliat  did  we  else  but  make  a  vow  643 

To  do  we  know  not  what,  nor  how  ? 

For  no  three  of  us  will  asrree 

Where,  or  what  churches  these  should  be  : 

And  is  indeed  the  self-same  case 

With  those  that  swore  et  cceteras  ;  65o 

Or  the  French  League,  in  which  men  vow'd 

To  fight  the  last  drop  of  blood. 

These  slanders  will  be  thrown  upon 

The  cause  and  work  we  carry  on, 

If  we  permit  men  to  run  headlong  655 

T'  exorbitances  fit  for  Bedlam, 

Rather  than  gospel-walking  times. 

When  slightest  sins  are  greatest  crimes. 

But  we  the  matter  so  shall  handle 

As  to  remove  that  odious  scandal :  66o 

In  name  of  King  and  Parl'ament, 

I  charge  ye  all,  no  more  foment 

V.  651.  The  Holy  League  in  France,  designed  and  made 
for  extirpation  of  the  Protestant  religion,  was  the  original  out 
of  which  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  here  was  (with 
difference  only  of  circumstances)  most  faithfully  transcribed. 
Nor  did  the  success  of  both  differ  more  than  the  intent  and 
purpose ;  for,  after  the  destruction  of  vast  numbers  of  people 
of  all  sorts,  both  ended  with  the  murder  of  two  kings,  whom 
they  had  both  sworn  to  defend.  And  as  our  Covenanters 
swore  every  man  to  run  one  before  another  in  the  way  of  Re- 
formation, so  did  the  French,  in  the  Holy  League,  to  fight  to 
the  last  drop  of  blood. 


PART   I.      CANTO   II.  71 

This  feud,  but  keep  the  peace  between 

Your  brethren  and  your  countrymen, 

And  to  those  places  straight  repair  665 

Where  your  respective  dwelUngs  are. 

But  to  that  purpose  first  surrender 

The  Fiddler,  as  the  prime  offender, 

Th'  mcendiary  vile,  that  is  chief 

Author  and  engineer  of  mischief ;  670 

That  makes  division  between  friends, 

For  profane  and  malignant  ends. 

He,  and  that  engine  of  vUe  noise 

On  which  illegally  he  plays, 

Shall  {dictum  factum)  both  be  brought  676 

To  condign  pun'shment,  as  they  ought : 

This  must  be  done,  and  I  would  fain  see 

Mortal  so  sturdy  as  to  gainsay  ; 

V.  673-676.  The  thi-eatening  punishment  to  the  Fiddle  was 
much  Uke  the  threats  of  the  pragmatical  troopers  to  punish 
Ealph  Dobbin's  waggon,  '  Plain  Dealer,'  vol.  i.  "  I  was  dri- 
ving," says  he,  "  into  a  town  upon  the  29th  of  May,  where  my 
waggon  was  to  dine.  There  came  up  in  a  gi-eat  rage  seven  or 
eight  of  the  troopers  that  were  quartered  there,  and  asked, 
'  Wliat  I  bushed  out  my  horses  for?  '  I  told  them,  '  To  drive 
flies  away.'  But  they  said,  I  was  a  Jacobite  rascal,  that  my 
horses  were  guilty  of  high  treason,  and  my  waggon  ought  to 
be  hanged.  I  answered,  '  it  was  already  drawn,  and  within 
a  yard  or  two  of  being  quartered ;  but  as  to  being  hanged, 
it  was  a  compliment  we  had  no  occasion  for,  and  therefore 
desired  them  to  take  it  back  again,  and  keep  it  in  their  own 
hands,  till  they  had  an  opportunity  to  make  use  of  it.'  I  had 
no  sooner  spoke  these  words,  but  they  fell  upon  me  like  thun- 
der, stript  my  cattle  in  a  twinkling,  and  beat  me  black  and 
blue  vnth  my  own  oak  branches." 


72  nUDIBRAS. 

For  then  I'll  take  another  course, 
And  soon  reduce  you  all  by  force.  eso 

This  said,  he  clapt  his  hand  on  sword. 
To  show  he  meant  to  keep  his  word. 
But  Talgol,  who  had  long  supprest 
Inflamed  wrath  in  glowing  breast. 
Which  now  began  to  rage  and  burn  as  685 

Implacably  as  flame  in  furnace, 
Thus  answer'd  him :  Thou  vermin  wretched, 
As  e'er  in  measled  pork  was  hatched ; 
Thou  tail  of  worship,  that  dost  grow 
On  rump  of  justice  as  of  cow ;  eoo 

How  dar'st  thou  with  that  sullen  lujiQ-age 
O'  th'  self,  old  ir'n,  and  other  baggage, 
With  which  thy  steed  of  bones  and  leather 
Has  broke  his  wind  in  halting  hither, 
How  durst  th',  I  say,  adventure  thus  695 

T'  oppose  thy  lumber  against  us  ? 
Could  thine  impertinence  find  out 
No  work  t'  employ  itself  about, 
Wliere  thou,  secure  from  wooden  blow. 
Thy  busy  vanity  might'st  show  ?  700 

Was  no  dispute  a-foot  between 
The  caterwauling  Bretheren  ? 

V.  683,  684.  It  may  be  asked,  Why  Talgol  was  the  first 
in  answering  the  Knight,  when  it  seems  more  incumbent  upon 
the  Bearward  to  make  a  defence?  Probably  Talgol  might 
then  be  a  Cavalier ;  for  the  character  the  Poet  has  given  him 
doth  not  infer  the  contrary,  and  his  answer  carries  strong 
indications  to  justify  the  conjecture. 

V.  694.    Var.  'Is  lam'd,  and  tir'd  in  haltmg  hither.' 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  73 

No  subtle  question  rais'd  among 
Those  out-o'-their  wits  and  those  i'  th'  wrong  ? 
No  prize  between  those  combatants  70^ 

O'  th'  times,  the  land  and  water  saints, 
Where  thou  might'st  stickle,  without  hazard 
Of  outrage  to  thy  hide  and  mazzard. 
And  not  for  want  of  bus'ness  come 
To  us  to  be  thus  troublesome,  710 

To  interrupt  our  better  sort 
Of  disputants,  and  spoil  our  sport? 
Was  there  no  felony,  no  bawd. 
Cut -purse,  or  burglary  abroad  ? 
No  stolen  pig,  nor  plunder'd  goose,  718 

To  tie  thee  up  from  breaking  loose  ? 
No  ale  unlicens'd,  broken  hedge. 
For  which  thou  statute  might'st  allege, 
To  keep  thee  busy  from  foul  evil 
And  shame  due  to  thee  from  the  devil  ?  720 

Did  no  Committee  sit,  where  he 
Might  cut  out  journey-work  for  thee, 
And  set  th'  a  task,  with  subornation. 
To  stitch  up  sale  and  sequestration ; 
To  cheat,  with  holiness  and  zeal,  72s 

All  parties  and  the  commonweal  ? 
Much  better  had  it  been  for  thee 
He  'ad  kept  thee  where  th'  art  us'd  to  be, 
Or  sent  th'  on  bus'ness  any  whither. 
So  he  had  never  bi'ought  thee  hither :  730 

But  if  th'  hast  brain  enough  in  scull 
VOI-.  I.  9 


74  HUDIBRAS. 

To  keep  itself  in  lodging  whole, 

And  not  provoke  the  rage  of  stones 

And  cudgels  to  thj  hide  and  bones, 

Tremble,  and  vanish  while  thou  may'st,  y35 

Which  I'll  not  promise  if  thou  stay'st. 

At  tliis  the  knight  grew  high  in  wroth, 

And,  lifting  hands  and  eyes  up  both, 

Three  times  he  smote  on  stomach  stout. 

From  whence,  at  length,  these  words  broke  out : 

Was  I  for  this  entitled  Sir,  741 

And  girt  with  trusty  sword  and  spur, 
For  fame  and  honour  to  wage  battle, 
Thus  to  be  brav'd  by  foe  to  cattle  ? 
Not  all  that  pride  that  makes  thee  sweU  746 

As  big  as  thou  dost  blown-up  veal ; 
Nor  all  thy  tricks  and  sleights  to  cheat. 
And  sell  thy  carrion  for  good  meat; 
Nor  all  thy  magic  to  repair 

Decay'd  old  age  in  tough  lean  ware,  750 

Make  nat'ral  death  appear  thy  work, 

V-  732.    Var.  '  To  keep  within  its  lodging.' 

V.  741.  Hudibras  shewed  less  patience  upon  this  than  Don 
Quixote  did  upon  a  hke  occasion,  wliere  he  calmly  distin- 
guishes betwixt  an  affront  and  an  injury.  The  Knight  is  irri- 
tated at  the  satirical  answer  of  Talgol,  and  vents  his  rage  in  a 
manner  exactly  suited  to  his  character;  and  when  his  passion 
was  worked  up  to  a  height  too  gi-eat  to  be  expressed  in  words, 
he  immediately  falls  into  action ;  but,  alas !  at  this  first  en- 
trance into  it,  he  meets  with  an  unlucky  disappointment;  an 
omen  that  the  success  would  be  as  indifferent  as  the  cause  in 
which  he  was  engaged. 

V.  751.    Var. '  Turn  death  of  nature  to  thy  work.' 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  75 

And  stop  the  gangrene  in  stale  pork  ; 

Not  all  the  force  that  makes  thee  proud, 

Because  by  bullock  ne'er  withstood  ; 

Though  arm'd  with  all  thy  cleavers,  knives,      756 

And  axes,  made  to  hew  down  lives ; 

Shall  save  or  help  thee  to  evade 

The  hand  of  Justice,  or  this  blade, 

"Wliich  I,  her  sword-bearer,  do  carry, 

For  civil  deed  and  military.  760 

Nor  shall  these  words  of  venom  base, 

Wliich  thou  hast  from  their  native  place, 

Thy  stomach,  pump'd  to  fling  on  me. 

Go  unreveng'd,  though  I  am  free ; 

Thou  down  the  same  throat  shalt  devour  'em,   765 

Like  tainted  beef,  and  pay  dear  for  'em : 

Nor  shall  it  e'er  be  said  that  wight 

With  gauntlet  blue  and  bases  white. 

And  round  blunt  truncheon  by  his  side, 

So  great  a  man  at  arms  defy'd  770 

With  words  far  bitterer  than  wormwood. 

That  would  in  Job  or  Grizel  stir  mood. 

Dogs  with  their  tongues  their  wounds  do  heal. 

But  men  with  hands,  as  thou  shalt  feel. 

This  said,  with  hasty  rage  he  snatch'd  77ft 

His  gun-shot  that  in  holsters  watch'd, 
And,  bending  cock,  he  levell'd  full 
Against  th'  outside  of  Talgol's  scull, 
Vowing  that  he  should  ne'er  stir  further. 
Nor  henceforth  cow  or  buUock  murther :  780 


76  HUDIBRAS. 

But  Pallas  came  in  shape  of  Rust, 

And  'twixt  the  spring  and  hammer  thrust 

Her  Gorgon  shield,  which  made  the  cock 

Stand  stiff,  as  'twere  transform'd  to  stock. 

Meanwhile  fierce  Talgol,  gath'ring  might,  785 

With  rugged  truncheon  charg'd  the  Knight : 

But  he,  with  petronel  upheav'd 

Instead  of  shield,  the  blow  receiv'd ; 

The  gun  recoil'd,  as  well  it  might, 

Not  us'd  to  such  a  kind  of  fight,  790 

And  shrunk  from  its  great  master's  gripe, 

Knock'd  down  and  stunn'd  with  mortal  stripe. 

Then  Hudibras,  with  furious  haste, 

Drew  out  his  sword ;  yet  not  so  fast 

But  Talgol  first,  with  hardy  thwack,  795 

V.  781-783.  This,  and  another  passage  in  this  Canto,  are 
the  only  places  where  Deities  are  introduced  in  this  poem. 
As  it  was  not  intended  for  an  Epic  Poem,  consequently  none 
of  the  heroes  in  it  needed  supernatural  assistance ;  how  then 
comes  Pallas  to  be  ushered  in  here,  and  Mars  afterwards  ? 
Probably  to  ridicule  Homer  and  Virgil,  whose  heroes  scarce 
perform  any  action  (even  the  most  feasible)  without  the  sen- 
sible aid  of  a  Deity ;  and  to  manifest  that  it  was  not  the  want 
of  abiUties,  but  choice,  that  made  our  Poet  avoid  such  sub- 
terfuges, he  has  given  us  a  sample  of  his  judgment  in  this 
way  of  writing  in  the  passage  before  us,  which,  taken  in  its 
naked  meaning,  is  only  —  that  the  Knight's  pistol  was,  for  want 
of  use,  grown  so  rusty,  that  it  would  not  fire ;  or,  in  other 
words,  that  the  rust  was  the  cause  of  his  disappointment. 

V.  784.    Var.  '  Stand  stiff,  as  if 'twere  tum'd  t'  a  stock.' 

V.  786.    Var.  '  smote  the  Knight.' 

V.  787,  788.     Var.  '  And  he  with  rusty  pistol  held... 
To  take  the  blow  on  like  a  shield.' 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  77 

Twice  bruis'd  his  head,  and  twice  his  back. 

But  when  his  nut-brown  sword  was  out, 

With  stomach  huge  he  laid  about, 

Imprmting  many  a  wound  ujDon 

His  mortal  foe,  the  truncheon :  soo 

The  trusty  cudgel  did  oppose 

Itself  against  dead-doing  blows. 

To  guard  his  leader  from  feU  bane, 

And  then  reveng'd  itself  again. 

And  though  the  sword  (some  understood)  sos 

In  force  had  much  the  odds  of  wood, 

'Twas  nothing  so ;  both  sides  were  balanc't 

So  equal,  none  knew  which  was  valiant'st: 

For  wood,  with  honour  b'ing  engag'd. 

Is  so  implacably  enrag'd,  sio 

Though  ii-on  hew  and  mangle  sore. 

Wood  wounds  and  bruises  honour  more. 

And  now  both  knights  were  out  of  breath, 

Tir'd  in  the  hot  pursuits  of  death, 

Whilst  all  the  rest  amaz'd  stood  still,  8X5 

Expecting  which  should  take,  or  kill. 

This  Hudibras  observ'd ;  and  fretting 

Conquest  should  be  so  long  a-getting. 

He  drew  up  all  his  force  into 

One  body,  and  that  into  one  blow :  820 

But  Talgol  wisely  avoided  it 

By  cunning  sleight ;  for,  had  it  hit, 

V.  797.    Var.  '  But  when  his  rugged  sword  was  out.' 
-V.  798.    Var.  '  Courageously  he  laid  about.' 


78  HUDIBRAS. 

The  upper  part  of  him  the  blow 
Had  slit,  as  sure  as  that  below. 

Meanwhile  th'  incomparable  Colon,  825 

To  aid  his  friend,  began  to  fall  on : 
Him  Ralj^h  encounter' d,  and  straight  grew 
A  dismal  combat  'twixt  them  two  ; 
Th'  one  arm'd  with  metal,  th'  other  with  wood, 
This  fit  for  bruise,  and  that  for  blood.  sso 

"With  many  a  stiff  thwack,  many  a  bang, 
Hard  crab-tree  and  old  iron  rang, 
While  none  that  saw  them  could  divine 
To  which  side  conquest  would  incline: 
Until  Magnano,  who  did  envy  836 

That  two  should  with  so  many  men  vie, 
By  subtle  stratagem  of  brain 
Perfoi'm'd  what  force  could  ne'er  attain; 
For  he,  by  foul  hap,  having  found 
Where  thistles -grew  on  barren  ground,  840 

In  haste  he  drew  his  weapon  out. 
And,  having  cropt  them  from  the  root, 
He  clapt  them  underneath  the  tail 
Of  steed,  with  pricks  as  sharp  as  nail. 
The  angry  beast  did  straight  resent  645 

The  wrong  done  to  his  fundament, 
Began  to  kick,  and  fling,  and  wince, 

V.  825.    Var.  '  But  now  fierce  Colon  'gan  draw  on, 

To  aid  the  distress'd  champion ; ' 
V.  828.    Var.  '  A  fierce  dispute.' 
V.  844.    Var.  '  Witli  prickles  shai-per  than  a  nail-' 
V.  846.    Var.  '  And  feel  regret  on  fundament.' 


PART    I.       CANTO    II.  79 

As  if  h'  had  been  beside  his  sense, 

Striving  to  disengage  from  thistle, 

Tliat  gall'd  him  sorely  under  his  tail ;  sso 

Instead  of  which,  he  threw  the  pack 

Of  Squire  and  baggage  from  his  back, 

And  blund'ring  still,  with  smarting  rump, 

He  gave  the  Knight's  steed  such  a  thump 

As  made  him  reel.     The  Knight  did  stoop,       855 

And  sat  on  further  side  aslope. 

This  Talgol  viewing,  who  had  now 

By  sleight  escap'd  the  fatal  blow, 

He  rally'd,  and  again  fell  to  't ; 

For  catching  foe  by  nearer  foot,  seo 

He  lifted  with  such  might  and  strength 

As  would  have  hurl'd  him  thrice  his  length, 

And  dash'd  his  brains  (if  any)  out : 

But  Mars,  that  still  protects  the  stout. 

In  pudding-time  came  to  his  aid,  865 

And  under  him  the  Bear  convey'd. 

The  Bear,  upon  whose  soft  fur-gown 

V.  855.     Var.  '  That  stagger'd  him.' 

V.  864,  865.  I  would  here  observe  the  judgment  of  the 
Poet :  Mars  is  introduced  to  the  Knight's  advantage,  as  Pallas 
had  been  before  to  his  disappomtment.  It  was  reasonable 
that  the  God  of  War  should  come  m  to  his  assistance,  since 
a  goddess  had  interested  herself  on  the  side  of  his  enemies 
(agreeably  to  Homer  and  Virgil).  Had  the  Knight  directly- 
fallen  to  the  ground,  he  had  been  probably  disabled  from 
future  action,  and  consequently  the  battle  would  too  soon 
have  been  determined.  Besides,  we  may  observe  a  beau- 
tiful gradation  to  the  honour  of  the  hero:  he  falls  upon 
the  Bear,  the  Bear  breaks  loose,  and  the  spectators  run ;  so 


80  HUDIBRAS. 

The  Knight  with  all  his  weight  fell  down. 

The  friendly  rug  preserv'd  the  ground, 

And  headlong  Kniglit,  from  bruise  or  wound ;    870 

Like  feather-bed  betwixt  a  wall 

And  heavy  brunt  of  cannon-baU. 

As  Sancho  on  a  blanket  fell, 

And  had  no  hurt,  ours  far'd  as  weU 

In  body,  though  his  mighty  spirit,  87s 

B'ing  heavy,  did  not  so  well  bear  it. 

The  Bear  was  in  a  greater  fright, 

Beat  down  and  worsted  by  the  Knight ; 

He  roar'd,  and  rag'd,  and  flung  about, 

To  shake  off  bondage  from  his  snout :  sao 

His  wrath  inflam'd,  boil'd  o'er,  and  from 

His  jaws  of  death  he  threw  the  foam ; 

Fury  in  stranger  postures  threw  him. 

And  more  than  ever  herald  drew  him. 

He  tore  the  earth,  which  he  had  sav'd  885 

From  squelch  of  Knight,  and  storm'd  and  rav'd, 

And  vex'd  the  more  because  the  harms 

He  felt  were  'gainst  the  law  of  arms : 

For  men  he  always  took  to  be 

His  friends,  and  dogs  the  enemy ;  ago 

Who  never  so  much  hurt  had  done  him. 

As  his  own  side  did  falling  on  him. 

It  griev'd  him  to  the  guts  that  they. 

For  whom  he  'ad  fought  so  many  a  fray, 

that  the  Knight's  fall  is  the  primary  cause  of  this  rout,  and 
he  might  justly,  as  he  afterwards  did,  ascribe  the  honour  of 
the  victory  to  liimself. 


PART    I.       CANTO    II.  §1 

And  serv'd  with  loss  of  blood  so  long,  S95 

Should  oiFer  such  inhuman  wrong ; 

"Wrong  of  unsoldier-like  condition, 

For  which  he  flung  down  his  commission, 

And  laid  about  him,  till  his  nose 

From  thrall  of  ring  and  cord  broke  loose.         900 

Soon  as  lie  felt  himself  enlarg'd. 

Through  thickest  of  his  foes  he  charg'd, 

And  made  way  through  th'  amazed  crew ; 

Some  he  o'erran  and  some  o'erthrew, 

But  took  none  ;  for  by  hasty  flight  905 

He  strove  t'  escape  pursuit  of  Knight, 

From  whom  he  fled  with  as  much  haste 

And  dread  as  he  the  rabble  chas'd : 

In  haste  he  fled,  and  so  did  they, 

Each  and  his  fear  a  sev'ral  way.  910 

Crowdero  only  kept  the  field. 
Not  stirring  from  the  place  he  held, 
Though  beaten  down,  and  wounded  sore 
r  th'  Fiddle,  and  a  leg  that  bore 
One  side  of  him ;  not  that  of  bone,  916 

But  much  its  better,  th'  wooden  one. 
He  spying  Hudibras  lie  strow'd 
Upon  the  ground,  like  log  of  AYOod, 
With  fright  of  fall,  supposed  wound, 
And  loss  of  urine,  in  a  swound,  920 

In  haste  he  snatch'd  the  wooden  limb 


V.  906.     Var.  '  avoid  the  conqu'ring  Knight.' 
V.  920.    Var.  '  cast  iu  swound.' 


82  HUDIBRAS. 

That  hurt  i'  th'  ankle  lay  by  him, 

And,  fitting  it  for  sudden  fight, 

Straight  drew  it  up,  t'  attack  the  Knight ; 

For  getting  up  on  stump  and  huckle,  925 

He  with  the  foe  began  to  buckle, 

Vowing  to  be  reveug'd,  for  breach 

Of  Crowd  and  shin,  upon  the  wretch 

Sole  author  of  all  detriment 

He  and  his  fiddle  underwent.  930 

But  Ralpho  (who  had  now  begun 
T'  adventure  resurrection 
From  heavy  squelch,  and  had  got  up 
Upon  his  legs,  with  sprained  crup). 
Looking  about,  beheld  pernicion  935 

Approaching  Knight  from  fell  musician  : 
He  snatch'd  his  whinyard  up,  that  fled 
Wlien  he  was  falling  off  his  steed 
(As  rats  do  from  a  falling  house) 
To  hide  itself  from  rage  of  blows,  940 

And,  wing'd  with  speed  and  fury,  flew 
To  rescue  Knight  from  black  and  blue ; 
Which  ere  he  could  achieve,  his  sconce 
The  lea:  encounter'd  twice  and  once. 
And  now  'twas  rais'd  to  smite  agen  945 

When  Ralpho  tlirust  himself  between ; 

v.  923.    Var.  '  And  listing  it.' 

V  924.     Var.  '  to  fall  on  Knight.' 

V.  935,  936.   "Var.  '  Looking  about,  beheld  the  Bard 

To  charge  the  Knight  entranc'd  prepar'd.' 
V.  944.    Var.  '  The  skin  encounter'd,'  &c. 


PART    I.       CANTO    II.  83 

He  took  the  blow  upon  his  arm, 

To  shield  the  Knight  from  further  harm, 

And,  joining  wrath  with  force,  bestow'd 

On  th'  wooden  member  such  a  load,  950 

That  down  it  fell,  and  with  it  bore 

Crowdero,  whom  it  propp'd  before. 

To  him  the  Squire  right  nimbly  run. 

And  setting  conqu'ring  foot  upon 

His  trunk,  thus  spoke  :  What  desp'rate  frenzy  955 

Made  thee  (thou  whelp  of  Sin)  to  fancy 

Thyself  and  all  that  coward  rabble 

T'  encounter  us  in  battle  able  ? 

How  durst  th',  I  say,  oppose  thy  Curship 

'Gainst  arms,  authority,  and  worship,  960 

And  Hudibras  or  me  provoke, 

Though  all  thy  limbs  were  heart  of  oak. 

And  th'  other  half  of  thee  as  good 

To  bear  out  blows,  as  that  of  wood  ? 

Could  not  the  whipping-post  prevail,  965 

With  all  its  rhet'rick,  nor  the  jail, 

To  keep  from  flaying  scourge  thy  skin, 

And  ankle  free  from  iron  gin  ? 

Which  now  thou  shalt — but  first  our  care 

Must  see  how  Hudibras  does  fare.  970 

This  said,  he  gently  rais'd  the  Knight, 

And  set  him  on  his  bum  upright. 

To  rouse  him  from  lethargic  dump. 


v.  947.    Var.  '  on  side  and  ami.' 

V.  948.    Var.  '  To  shield  the  Knight  entranc'd  from  harm.' 


84  HUDIBRAS. 

He  tweak'd  his  nose,  with  gentle  thump 

Knock'd  on  his  breast,  as  if't  had  been  975 

To  raise  the  spirits  lodg'd  within; 

They,  waken'd  with  the  noise,  did  fly 

From  inward  room  to  window  eye. 

And  gently  op'ning  lid,  the  casement, 

Look'd  out,  but  yet  with  some  amazement.         iso 

This  gladded  Ralpho  much  to  see. 

Who  thus  bespoke  the  Knight.     Quoth  he, 

Tweaking  his  nose.  You  are,  great  Sir, 

A  self-denying  conqueror ; 

As  high,  victorious,  and  great,  985 

As  e'er  fought  for  the  Churches  yet, 

If  you  will  give  yourself  but  leave 

To  make  out  what  y'  already  have ; 

That's  victory.     The  foe,  for  dread 

Of  your  nine-worthiness,  is  fled,  990 

All  save  Crowdero,  for  whose  sake 

You  did  th'  espous'd  Cause  undertake ; 

And  he  hes  pris'ner  at  your  feet. 

To  be  dispos'd  as  you  think  meet. 

Either  for  life,  or  death,  or  sale,  ggs 

The  gallows,  or  perpetual  jail : 

For  one  wink  of  your  pow'rful  eye 

Must  sentence  him  to  live  or  die. 

His  Fiddle  is  your  proper  purchase, 

Won  in  the  service  of  the  Churches ;  1000 

And  by  your  doom  must  be  allow'd 

To  be,  or  be  no  more,  a  Ci'owd : 

For  though  success  did  not  confer 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  85 

Just  title  on  the  conqueror  ; 

Though  dispensations  were  not  strong  lOos 

Conclusions  whether  right  or  wrong  ; 

Although  Outgoings  did  confirm, 

And  Owning  were  but  a  mere  term ; 

Yet  as  the  wicked  have  no  right 

To  th'  creature,  though  usurp'd  by  might,         loio 

The  property  is  in  the  Saint, 

From  whom  th'  injuriously  detain  't : 

Of  him  they  hold  their  luxuries, 

Their  dogs,  their  horses,  whores,  and  dice, 

Their  riots,  revels,  masks,  delights,  1015 

Pimps,  buffoons,  fiddlers,  parasites  ; 

All  which  the  Saints  have  title  to. 

And  ought  t'  enjoy,  if  th'  had  their  due. 

What  we  take  from  'em  is  no  more 

Than  what  was  ours  by  right  before :  1020 

For  we  are  their  true  landlords  still. 

And  they  our  tenants  but  at  will. 

At  this  the  Knight  began  to  rouse, 

And  by  degrees  grow  valorous  : 

He  star'd  about,  and  seemg  none  1026 

Of  all  his  foes  remain  but  one, 

He  snatch'd  his  weapon  that  lay  near  him, 

V.  1009.  It  was  a  principle  maintained  by  the  Rebels  of 
those  days,  tliat  dominion  is  founded  on  gi-ace ;  and  therefore 
if  a  man  wanted  gi-ace  (in  their  opinion),  if  he  was  not  a 
saint  or  a  godly  man,  he  had  no  right  to  any  lands,  goods,  or 
chattels.  The  saints,  as  the  Squu-e  says,  had  a  right  to  all, 
and  might  take  it,  wherever  they  had  a  power  to  do  it. 


86  HUDIBRAS. 

And  from  the  ground  began  to  rear  him, 

Vowing  to  make  Crowdero  pay 

For  all  the  rest  that  ran  away.  loao 

But  Ralpho  now,  in  colder  blood, 

His  fury  mildly  thus  withstood  : 

Great  Sir,  quoth  he,  your  mighty  spirit 

Is  rais'd  too  high  ;  this  slave  does  merit 

To  be  the  hangman's  bus'ness  sooner  i036 

Than  from  your  hand  to  have  the  honour 

Of  his  destruction  ;  I  that  am 

A  Nothingness  in  deed  and  name, 

Did  scorn  to  hurt  his  forfeit  carcase, 

Or  ill  entreat  liis  Fiddle  or  case  :  1040 

Will  you,  great  Sir,  that  glory  blot 

In  cold  blood,  which  you  gain'd  in  hot  ? 

"Will  you  employ  your  conqu'ring  sword 

To  break  a  fiddle,  and  your  word  ? 

For  though  I  fought  and  overcame,  i046 

And  quarter  gave,  'twas  in  your  name  : 

For  great  commanders  always  own 

Wliat's  prosp'rous  by  the  soldier  done. 

To  save,  where  you  have  pow'r  to  kill. 

Argues  your  pow'r  above  your  will ;  loso 

And  that  your  wiU  and  pow'r  have  less 

Than  both  might  have  of  selfishness. 

This  pow'r,  which  now  alive,  with  dread 

He  trembles  at,  if  he  were  dead 

Would  no  more  keep  the  slave  in  awe,  loss 

Than  if  you  were  a  Knight  of  straw  ; 

For  Death  would  then  be  his  conqueror, 


PART   I.      CANTO   II.  87 

Not  you,  and  free  him  from  that  terror. 

K  danger  from  his  life  accrue, 

Or  honour  from  his  death,  to  you,  loeo 

'Twere  policy  and  honour  too 

To  do  as  you  resolv'd  to  do : 

But,  Sir,  'twould  wrong  your  valour  much, 

To  say  it  needs  or  fears  a  crutch. 

Great  conqu'rors  greater  glory  gain  1060 

By  foes  in  triumph  led,  than  slain : 

The  laurels  that  adorn  their  brows 

Are  puU'd  from  Hving,  not  dead  boughs. 

And  living  foes  :  the  greatest  fame 

Of  cripple  slain  can  be  but  lame  ;  1070 

One  half  of  him  's  already  slain, 

The  other  is  not  worth  your  pain  ; 

Th'  honour  can  but  on  one  side  light, 

As  worship  did,  Avhen  y'  were  dubb'd  Knight ; 

Wherefore  I  think  it  better  far  1075 

To  keep  him  prisoner  of  war. 

And  let  liim  fast  in  bonds  abide, 

At  court  of  justice  to  be  try'd  ; 

Where  if  h'  appear  so  bold  or  crafty 

There  may  be  danger  in  his  safety,  108O 

If  any  member  there  dislike 

His  face,  or  to  his  beard  have  pique. 

Or  if  his  death  wiU  save  or  yield, 

Revenge  or  fright,  it  is  reveal'd  ; 

V.  1084.  When  the  Rebels  had  taken  a  prisoner,  though 
they  gave  liim  quarter,  and  promised  to  save  his  life,  yet  if 
any  of  them  afterwards  thought  it  not  proper  that  he  should 


88  HUDIBRAS. 

Thougli  lie  has  quarter,  ne'ertlieless  ios-5 

Y'  have  pow'r  to  hang  him  when  you  please 

This  has  been  often  done  by  some 

Of  our  great  conqu'rors,  you  know  whom ; 

And  has  by  most  of  us  been  held 

"Wise  justice,  and  to  some  reveal'd  :  io90 

For  words  and  promises,  that  yoke 

The  conqueror,  are  quickly  broke  ; 

Like  Samson's  cuiFs,  though  by  his  own 

Direction  and  advice  put  on. 

For  if  we  should  fight  for  the  Cause  1095 

By  rules  of  military  laws. 

And  only  do  what  they  call  just. 

The  Cause  would  quickly  fall  to  dust. 

This  we  among  ourselves  may  speak ; 

But  to  the  wicked  or  the  weak  1100 

We  must  be  cautious  to  declare 

Perfection-truths,  such  as  these  are. 

This  said,  the  high  outrageous  mettle 
Of  Knight  began  to  cool  and  settle. 
He  Uk'd  the  Squire's  advice,  and  soon  no5 

Resolv'd  to  see  the  bus'ness  done  ; 
And  therefore  charg'd  him  first  to  bind 

be  saved,  it  was  only  saying  it  was  revealed  to  him  that  such 
a  one  should  die,  and  they  hanged  him  up,  notwithstanding 
the  promises  before  made.  Dr.  South  observes  of  Harrison 
the  Eegicide,  a  butcher  by  profession,  and  preacliing  Colonel 
in  the  Parliament  army,  "  That  he  was  notable  for  having 
killed  several  after  quarter  given  by  others,  using  these  words 
in  doing  it :  '  Cursed  be  he  who  doth  the  work  of  the  Lord 
negligently.' " 


PART   I.      CANTO    II.  89 

Crowdero's  hands  on  rump  beMnd, 

And  to  its  former  place  and  use 

The  wooden  member  to  reduce  ;  iiiff 

But  force  it  take  an  oath  before, 

Ne'er  to  bear  arms  against  him  more. 

Ralpho  dispatch'd  with  speedy  haste, 
And,  having  ty'd  Crowdero  fast. 
He  gave  Sir  Knight  the  end  of  cord,  1116 

To  lead  the  captive  of  his  sword 
In  triumph,  whilst  the  steeds  he  caught, 
And  them  to  further  service  brought. 
The  Squire  in  state  rode  on  before, 
And  on  his  nut-brown  whinyard  bore  J120 

The  trophy  Fiddle  and  the  case, 
Leaning  on  shoulder  Uke  a  mace. 
The  Knight  himself  did  after  ride. 
Leading  Crowdero  by  his  side  ; 
And  tow'd  him  if  he  lagg'd  behind,  1125 

Like  boat  against  the  tide  and  wind. 
Thus  grave  and  solemn  they  march  on. 
Until  quite  through  the  town  they  'ad  gone, 
At  further  end  of  which  there  stands 
An  ancient  castle,  that  commands  1130 

Th'  adjacent  parts  ;  in  aU  the  fabric 
You  shall  not  see  one  stone  nor  a  brick. 


V.  1122.    Var.  '  Plac'd  on  his  shoulder.' 

v.  1130.  This  is  an  enigmatical  description  of  a  pair  of 
stocks  and  a  whipping-post;  it  is  so  pompous  and  sublime, 
that  we  are  surprised  so  noble  a  structure  could  be  raised  from 
so  ludicrous  a  subject. 

VOL.   I.  10 


90  HUDIBRAS. 

But  all  of  wood,  by  pow'rful  speU 
Of  magic  made  impregnable  : 
There's  neither  ii*on-bar  nor  gate,  1135 

PortcuUis,  chain,  nor  bolt,  nor  grate, 
And  yet  men  durance  there  abide, 
•  In  dungeon  scarce  three  inches  wide : 
With  roof  so  low,  that  under  it 
They  never  stand,  but  lie  or  sit ;  luo 

And  yet  so  foul,  that  whoso  is  in 
Is  to  the  middle-leg  in  prison  ; 
In  circle  magical  confin'd 
With  walls  of  subtle  air  and  wind, 
Wliich  none  are  able  to  break  thorough  1145 

Until  they're  freed  by  head  of  borough. 
Thither  arriv'd,  th'  advent'rous  Knight 
And  bold  Squire  from  their  steeds  alight 
At  th'  outward  wall,  near  which  there  stands 
A  Bastile,  built  t'  imprison  hands ;  1150 

By  strange  enchantment  made  to  fetter 
The  lesser  parts,  and  free  the  greater. 
For  though  the  body  may  creep  through. 
The  hands  in  grate  are  fast  enough  ; 
And  when  a  circle  'bout  the  wrist  1155 

Is  made  by  beadle  exorcist. 
The  body  feels  the  spur  and  switch. 
As  if  'twere  ridden  post  by  witch 
At  twenty  miles  an  hour  pace, 
And  yet  ne'er  stirs  out  of  the  place.  116O 

On  top  of  this  there  is  a  spire, 
On  which  Sir  Knight  first  bids  the  Squire 


PART    I.       CANTO    II.  9l 

The  Fiddle,  and  its  spoils,  the  case, 

In  manner  of  a  trophy  place  ; 

That  done,  they  ope  the  trap-door  gate,  lies 

And  let  Crowdero  down  thereat. 

Crowdero  making  doleful  face, 

Like  hermit  poor  in  pensive  place. 

To  dungeon  they  the  wretch  commit, 

And  the  survivor  of  his  feet;  1170 

But  th'  other  that  had  broke  the  peace, 

And  head  of  Knighthood,  they  release. 

Though  a  delinquent  false  and  forged, 

Yet  b'ing  a  stranger  he's  enlarged, 

While  his  comrade,  that  did  no  hurt,  ins 

Is  clapp'd  up  fast  in  prison  for't : 

So  justice,  whUe  she  winks  at  crimes, 

Stumbles  on  innocence  sometimes. 


92  HUDIBRAS. 


PAKT    I.    CANTO    III. 

THE   ARGUMENT. 

The  scatter'd  rout  return  and  rally, 
Surround  the  place :  the  Knight  does  sally, 
And  is  made  pris'ner:  then  they  seize 
Th'  enchanted  fort  by  storm,  release 
Crowdero,  and  put  the  Squire  in  's  place; 
I  should  have  first  said  Hudibras. 

At  me !  what  perils  do  environ 

The  man  that  meddles  with  cold  iron ! 

What  plaguy  mischiefs  and  mishaps 

Do  dog  him  still  with  after-claps  ! 

For  though  Dame  Fortune  seem  to  smUe,  6 

And  leer  upon  him  for  a  while, 

She'll  after  shew  him,  in  the  nick 

Of  all  his  glories,  a  dog-trick. 

This  any  man  may  sing  or  say 

I'  th'  ditty  call'd,  What  if  a  Day  ?  lo 

For  Hudibras,  who  thought  he  'ad  won 

The  field,  as  certain  as  a  gun, 

And  having  routed  the  whole  troop, 

With  victory  was  cock-a-hoop, 

Thinking  he  'ad  done  enough  to  purchase  is 

Thanksgiving-day  among  the  Churches, 

Wherein  his  mettle  and  brave  worth 

Might  be  explain'd  by  holder-forth 


PAKT   I.      CANTO    HI.  93 

And  register'd  by  fame  eternal 

In  deathless  pages  of  Diurnal,  so 

Found  in  few  minutes,  to  his  cost. 

He  did  but  count  without  his  host. 

And  that  a  turnstile  is  more  certain 

Than,  in  events  of  war,  Dame  Fortune. 

For  now  the  late  faint-hearted  rout,  15 

O'erthrown  and  scatter'd  round  about, 
Chas'd  by  the  horror  of  their  fear 
From  bloody  fray  of  Knight  and  Bear 
(All  but  the  Dogs,  who  in  pursuit 
Of  the  Knight's  victory  stood  to  't,  so 

And  most  ignobly  fought  to  get 
The  honour  of  his  blood  and  sweat), 
Seemg  the  coast  was  free  and  clear 
O'  the  conquer'd  and  the  conqueror,    . 
Took  heart  again,  and  fac'd  about  35 

As  if  they  meant  to  stand  it  out: 
For  by  this  time  the  routed  Bear, 
Attack'd  by  th'  enemy  i'  tli'  rear. 
Finding  their  number  grew  too  great 
For  him  to  make  a  safe  retreat,  40 

Like  a  bold  chieftain  fac'd  about ; 
But  wisely  doubting  to  hold  out, 
Gave  way  to  fortune,  and  with  haste 
Fac'd  the  proud  foe,  and  fled,  and  fac'd, 
Retiring  stUl,  until  he  found  4S 


V.  35.    Var.  '  Took  heart  of  grace.' 

V.  37.    Var.  '  For  now  the  half-defeated  Bear.' 


S4:  HUDIBRAS. 

He  'ad  got  tlie  advantage  of  the  ground, 

And  then  as  val'antly  made  head 

To  check  the  foe,  and  forthwith  fled. 

Leaving  no  art  untry'd,  nor  trick 

Of  warrior  stout  and  pohtic,  so 

Until,  in  spite  of  hot  pursuit. 

He  gain'd  a  pass,  to  hold  dispute 

On  better  terms,  and  stop  the  course 

Of  the  proud  foe.     With  all  his  force 

He  bravely  charg'd,  and  for  a  while  65 

Forc'd  their  whole  body  to  recoil ; 

But  stUl  their  numbers  so  increas'd. 

He  found  himself  at  length  oppress'd. 

And  all  evasions  so  uncertain, 

To  save  himself  for  better  fortune,  60 

That  he  resolv'd,  rather  than  yield. 

To  die  with  honour  in  the  field. 

And  sell  his  hide  and  carcase  at 

A  price  as  high  and  desperate 

As  e'er  he  could.     This  resolution  66 

He  forthwith  put  in  execution, 

And  bravely  threw  himself  among 

The  enemy,  i'  th'  greatest  throng  : 

But  what  could  single  valour  do 

Against  so  numerous  a  foe  ?  70 

Yet  much  he  did,  indeed  too  much 

To  be  believ'd,  where  th'  odds  were  such ; 

But  one  against  a  multitude. 

Is  more  than  mortal  can  make  good : 

For  while  one  party  he  oppos'd,  75 


S6 


PART   I.      CANTO    III.  95 

His  rear  was  suddenly  inclos'd, 

And  no  room  left  him  for  retreat 

Or  fight  against  a  foe  so  great. 

For  now  the  Mastives,  chargmg  home, 

To  blows  and  handy -gripes  were  come  ;  so 

Wliile  manfully  himself  he  bore, 

And  setting  his  right  foot  before, 

He  rais'd  himself,  to  shew  how  tall 

His  person  was  above  them  all. 

Tills  equal  shame  and  envy  stirr'd 

In  th'  enemy,  that  one  should  beard 

So  many  warriors,  and  so  stout. 

As  he  had  done,  and  stav'd  it  out, 

Disdaining  to  lay  down  his  arms, 

And  yield  on  honourable  terms. 

Enraged  thus,  some  in  the  rear 

Attack'd  him,  and  some  ev'ry  where, 

Till  down  he  fell ;  yet  falling  fought, 

And,  being  down,  still  laid  about :    ^ 

As  Widdrington,  in  doleful  dumps,  96 

Is  said  to  fight  upon  his  stumps. 

But  all,  alas  !  had  been  in  vain, 
And  he  inevitably  slain. 
If  Trulla  and  Cerdon  hi  the  nick 
To  rescue  him  had  not  been  quick :  lOO 

For  Trulla,  who  was  light  of  foot 
As  shafts  which  long-field  Parthians  shoot 


90 


V.  102.  '  As  shafts  which  long-field  Parthians  shoot.'  Mr. 
Warburton  is  of  opinion  that '  long-filed '  would  be  more  pro- 
per; as  the  Parthians  were  ranged  in  long  fiiles,  a  disposition 


96  HUDIBRAS. 

(But  not  so  light  as  to  be  borne 

Upon  the  ears  of  standing  corn, 

Or  trip  it  o'er  the  water  quicker  lOo 

Than  witches  when  their  staves  they  liquor, 

As  some  report),  was  got  among 

The  foremost  of  the  martial  throng. 

There  pitying  the  vanquish'd  Bear, 

She  call'd  to  Cerdon,  who  stood  n^ar,  no 

Viewing  the  bloody  fight ;  to  whom. 

Shall  we  (quoth  she)  stand  still  hum-drum. 

And  see  stout  Bruin,  all  alone, 

By  numbers  basely  overthrown? 

Such  feats  already  he  'as  achiev'd  lie 

In  story  not  to  be  believ'd. 

And  'twould  to  us  be  shame  enough 

Not  to  attempt  to  fetch  him  off. 

I  would  (quoth  he)  venture  a  limb 

To  second  thee,  and  rescue  him ;  120 

But  then  we  must  about  it  straight. 

Or  else  our  aid  will  come  too  late : 

Quarter  he  scorns,  he  is  so  stout. 

And  therefore  cannot  long  hold  out. 

This  said,  they  wav'd  their  weapons  round        125 

About  their  heads  to  clear  the  ground, 

proper  for  their  maimer  of  fighting,  which  was  by  sudden 
retreats  and  sudden  charges.  Sir.  Smith  of  Harleston,  in 
Norfolli,  thinks  that  the  following  alteration  of  the  line  would 
be  an  improvement : 

'  As  long-field  shafts,  which  Parthians  shoot.' 
'  Long-field  Parthians '  is  right,  i.  e.  Parthians  who  shoot 
from  a  distance.    Ed. 


PART   I.      CANTO   III.  97 

And  joining  forces,  laid  about 

So  fiercely,  that  tli'  amaz'd  rout 

Turn'd  tail  again,  and  straight  begun, 

As  if  the  devil  drove,  to  run.  iso 

Meanwhile  th'  approach'd  the  place  where  Bruin 

Was  now  engag'd  to  mortal  ruin : 

The  conqu'ring  foe  they  soon  assail'd, 

First  TruUa  stav'd,  and  Cerdon  tail'd, 

Until  their  Mastives  loos'd  their  hold ;  i36 

And  yet,  alas  !  do  what  they  could. 

The  worsted  Bear  came  oif  with  store 

Of  bloody  wounds,  but  all  before. 

For  as  Achilles,  dipt  in  pond. 

Was  anabaptiz'd  free  from  wound,  140 

Made  proof  against  dead-doing  steel 

All  over,  but  the  Pagan  heel ; 

So  did  our  champion's  arms  defend 

All  of  him  but  the  other  end. 

His  head  and  ears,  which  in  the  martial  145 

Encounter  lost  a  leathern  parcel. 

For  as-  an  Austrian  archduke  once 

Had  one  ear  (which  in  ducatoons 

Is  half  the  coin)  in  battle  par'd 

Close  to  his  head,  so  Bruin  far'd ;  150 

But  tugg'd  and  pull'd  on  th'  other  side 

Like  scriv'ner  newly  crucify'd,  * 

Or  like  the  late  corrected  leathern 

Ears  of  the  circumcised  brethren. 

But  gentle  TruUa  into  th'  ring  165 

He  wore  in  's  nose  convey'd  a  string, 


98  HUDIBRAS. 

"With  which  she  march'd  before,  and  led 
The  warrior  to  a  grassy  bed, 
As  authors  write,  in  a  cool  sliade 
"Which  eglantine  and  roses  made,  leo 

Close  by  a  softly  murm'ring  stream, 
Where  lovers  us'd  to  loll  and  dream : 
There  leaving  him  to  his  repose, 
Secured  from  pursuit  of  foes. 
And  wanting  nothing  but  a  song  i65 

And  a  well-tun'd  theorbo  hung 
Upon  a  bough,  to  ease  the  pain 
His  tugg'd  ears  sufFer'd,  with  a  strain. 
They  both  drew  up,  to  march  in  quest 
Of  his  great  leader  and  the  rest.  170 

For  Orsin  (who  was  more  renown'd  , 

For  stout  maintaining  of  his  ground, 
In  standing  fight,  than  for  pursuit. 
As  being  not  so  quick  of  foot) 
Was  not  long  able  to  keep  pace  176 

With  others  that  pursu'd  the  chace. 
But  found  himself  left  far  behind, 
Both  out  of  heart  and  out  of  wind. 
Griev'd  to  behold  his  Bear  pursued 
So  basely  by  a  multitude,  I80 

And  like  to  fall,  not  by  the  prowess, 
But  numbers,  of  his  coward  foes. 
He  rag'd,  and  kept  as  heavy  a  coil  as 
Stout  Hercules  for  loss  of  Hylas, 
Forcing  the  valleys  to  repeat  i8s 

The  accents  of  his  sad  regret : 


PART   I.     CANTO   III.  99 

He  beat  his  breast  and  tore  his  hair, 

For  loss  of  his  clear  crony  Bear, 

That  Echo,  from  the  hollow  ground. 

His  doleful  wailings  did  resound  190 

More  wistfully,  by  many  times, 

That  in  small  poets'  splayfoot  rhymes, 

That  make  her,  in  their  ruthful  stories, 

To  answer  to  int'rrogatories, 

And  most  unconscionably  depose  195 

To  things  of  which  she  nothing  knows ; 

And  when  she  has  said  all  she  can  say, 

'Tis  wrested  to  the  lover's  fancy. 

Quoth  he,  O  whither,  wicked  Bruin  ! 

Art  thou  fled  to  my  — :  Echo,  Ruin.  300 

I  thought  th'  hadst  scorn'd  to  budge  a  step 

For  fear :  quoth  Echo,  Marry  guep. 

Am  not  I  here  to  take  thy  part  ? 

Then  what  has  quail'd  thy  stubborn  heart? 

Have  these  bones  rattled,  and  this  head  206 

So  often  in  thy  quarrel  bled:? 

Nor  did  I  ever  winch  or  grudge  it 

For  thy  dear  sake  :  Quoth  she,  Mum  budget. 

Thmli'st  thou  'twill  not  be  laid  i'  th'  dish 

Thou  turn'dst  thy  back?  Quoth  Echo,  Pish.     210 

To  run  from  those  th'  hadst  overcome 

v.  189, 190.  This  passage  is  beautiful,  not  only  as  it  is  a 
moving  lamentation,  and  evidences  our  Poet  to  be  master  of 
the  pathetic  as  well  as  the  sublime  style,  but  also  as  it  com- 
prehends a  fine  satire  upon  that  false  kind  of  wit  of  making 
an  echo  talk  sensibly,  and  give  rational  answers. 


100  HUDIBRAS. 

Thus  cowardly  ?  Quoth,  Echo,  Mum. 

But  what  a  vengeance  makes  thee  fly 

From  me  too,  as  thine  enemy  ? 

Or,  if  thou  hast  no  thought  of  me,  aie 

Nor  what  I  have  endured  for  thee. 

Yet  shame  and  honour  might  prevail 

To  keep  thee  thus  from  turning  tail : 

For  who  would  grutch  to  spend  his  blood  in 

His  honour's  cause  ?    Quoth  she,  A  puddm.      220 

This  said,  his  grief  to  anger  turn'd, 

Which  in  his  manly  stomach  burn'd ; 

Thirst  of  revenge,  and  wrath,  in  place 

Of  sorrow,  now  began  to  blaze : 

He  vow'd  the  authors  of  his  woe  235 

Should  equal  vengeance  undergo. 

And  with  their  bones  and  flesh  pay  dear 

For  what  he  suffer'd,  and  his  Bear. 

This  being  resolv'd,  with  equal  speed 

And  rage  he  hasted  to  proceed  230 

To  action  straight,  and,  giving  o'er 

To  search  for  Bruin  any  more, 

He  went  in  quest  of  Hudibras, 

To  find  him  out  where'er  he  was ; 

And,  if  he  were  above  ground,  vow'd  235 

He'd  ferret  him,  lurk  where  he  would. 

But  scarce  had  he  a  furlong  on 
This  resolute  adventure  gone. 
When  he  encounter'd  with  that  crew 
Whom  Hudibras  did  late  subdue.  240 

Honour,  revenge,  contempt,  and  shame, 


PART    I.       CANTO    III.  101 

Did  equally  their  breasts  inflame. 

'Mong  these  the  fierce  Magnano  was, 

And  Talgol,  foe  to  Hudibras, 

Cerdon  and  Colon,  warriors  stout  24s 

And  resolute,  as  ever  fought ; 

Whom  furious  Orsin  thus  bespoke  : 

Shall  we  (quoth  he)  thus  basely  brook 
The  vile  affront  that  paltry  ass, 
And  feeble  scoundrel,  Hudibras,  250 

"With  that  more  paltry  ragamuffin, 
Ralpho,  with  vapouring  and  huffing. 
Have  put  upon  us,  like  tame  cattle, 
As  if  th'  had  routed  us  in  battle  ? 
For  my  part,  it  shall  ne'er  be  said  ass 

I  for  the  waslimg  gave  my  head  : 
Nor  did  I  turn  my  back  for  fear 
0'  th'  rascals,  but  loss  of  my  Bear, 
Which  now  I'm  like  to  undergo  ; 
For  whether  these  fell  wounds,  or  no,  260 

He  has  receiv'd  in  fight,  are  mortal. 
Is  more  than  all  my  skill  can  foretell ; 
Nor  do  I  know  what  is  become 
Of  him,  more  than  the  Pope  of  Rome. 
But  if  I  can  but  find  them  out  266 

That  caus'd  it  (as  I  shall,  no  doubt, 
Where'er  th'  in  hugger-mugger  lurk) 
rU  make  them  rue  their  handiwork, 
And  wish  that  they  had  rather  dar'd 

V.  258.    Var.  '  Of  them,  but  losing  of  my  Bear.' 


102  HUDIBEAS. 

To  pull  the  devil  by  the  beard.  370 

Quoth  Cerdon,  Noble  Orsin,  th'  hast 

Great  reason  to  do  as  thou  say'st, 

And  so  has  ev'rj  body  here, 

As  well  as  thou  hast,  or  thy  Bear : 

Others  may  do  as  they  see  good ;  275 

But  if  this  twig  be  made  of  wood 

That  will  hold  tack,  I'll  make  the  fur 

Fly  'bout  the  ears  of  that  old  cur, 

And  th'  other  mungrel  vermin,  Raljoh, 

That  brav'd  us  all  in  his  behalf.  aso 

Thy  Bear  is  safe  and  out  of  peril. 

Though  lugg'd  indeed  and  wounded  very  ill ; 

Myself  and  Trulla  made  a  sliift 

To  help  him  out  at  a  dead  lift. 

And  having  brought  him  bravely  off,  285 

Have  left  him  where  he's  safe  enough : 

There  let  him  rest ;  for  if  we  stay, 

The  slaves  may  hap  to  get  away. 
This  said,  they  all  engag'd  to  join 

Their  forces  in  the  same  design,  290 

And  forthwith  put  themselves  in  search 

Of  Hudibras  upon  their  march  : 

Where  leave  we  them  awhile,  to  tell 

What  the  victorious  Knight  befell ; 

For  such,  Crowdero  being  fast  295 

In  dungeon  shut,  we  left  him  last. 

Triumphant  laurels  seem'd  to  grow 

No-where  so  green  as  on  his  brow, 

leaden  with  which,  as  well  as  tir'd 


PART    I.       CANTO    III.  103 

With  conqu'ring  toil,  he  now  retir'd  aoo 

Unto  a  neighb'ring  castle  by, 

To  rest  his  body,  and  apply 

Fit  med'cines  to  each  glorious  bruise 

He  got  in  fight,  reds,  blacks,  and  blues  ; 

To  molHfy  th'  uneasy  pang  305 

Of  ev'ry  honourable  bang  ; 

Which  b'ing  by  skilful  midwife  drest, 

He  laid  him  down  to  take  his  rest. 

But  all  in  vain :  h'  had  got  a  hurt, 
O'  th'  inside,  of  a  deadlier  sort,  310 

By  Cupid  made,  who  took  his  stand 
Upon  a  widoAv's  jointure-land 
(For  he,  in  all  his  am'rous  battles, 
No  'dvantage  finds  like  goods  and  chattels), 
Drew  home  his  bow,  and,  aiming  right,  316 

Let  fly  an  arrow  at  the  Knight. 
The  shaft  against  a  rib  did  glance, 
And  gall  him  in  the  purtenance  ; 
But  time  had  somewhat  'swag'd  his  pain, 
After  he  found  his  suit  in  vain ;  330 

For  that  proud  dame,  for  whom  his  soul 
Was  burnt  in  's  belly  like  a  coal, 
(That  belly  that  so  oft  did  ake 
And  suflfer  griping  for  her  sake. 
Till  purging  comfits  and  ants'  eggs  835 

Had  almost  brought  him  off  his  legs), 


V.  315,  316.    Var.  '  As  how  he  did,  and  aiming  right, 
An  arrow  he  let  fly  at  Knight.' 


104  HUDIBRAS- 

Us'd  him  so  like  a  base  rascallion 

That  old  Pyg — (what  d'  ye  call  him) — malion, 

That  cut  liis  mistress  out  of  stone, 

Had  not  so  hard  a  hearted  one.  330 

She  had  a  thousand  jadish  tricks, 

Worse  than  a  mule  that  flings  and  kicks  ; 

'Mong  which  one  cross-grain'd  freak  she  had, 

As  insolent  as  strange  and  mad : 

She  could  love  none  but  only  such  3Sft 

As  scorn'd  and  hated  her  as  much. 

'Twas  a  strange  riddle  of  a  lady  ; 

Not  love,  if  any  lov'd  her :  hey-day ! 

oo  cowards  never  use  their  might 

But  against  such  as  will  not  fight ;  340 

So  some  diseases  have  been  found 

Only  to  seize  upon  the  sound. 

He  that  gets  her  by  heart  must  say  her 

The  back  way,  like  a  witch's  prayer. 

Meanwhile  the  Knight  had  no  small  task  346 

To  compass  what  he  durst  not  ask : 

He  loves,  but  dares  not  make  the  motion ; 

Her  ignorance  is  his  devotion  : 

Like  caitiff  vile,  that  for  misdeed 

Rides  with  his  face  to  rump  of  steed,  sao 

Or  rowing  scuU,  he's  fain  to  love ; 

Look  one  way,  and  another  move : 

Or  like  a  tumbler  that  does  play 

His  game,  and  look  another  way 

V.  338.     Var.  'Ha-dayP 


PART   I.     CANTO   III.  105 

Until  he  seize  upon  the  conej  ;  366 

Just  so  does  he  by  matrimony. 

But  all  in  vain ;  her  subtle  snout 

Did  quickly  wind  his  meaning  out, 

Which  she  return'd  with  too  much  scorn 

To  be  by  man  of  honour  borne :  360 

Yet  much  he  bore,  until  the  distress 

He  sufFer'd  from  his  spightful  mistress 

Did  stir  his  stomach,  and  the  pain 

He  had  endur'd  from  her  disdain 

Turn'd  to  regret  so  resolute  865 

That  he  resolv'd  to  wave  his  suit. 

And  either  to  renounce  her  quite 

Or  for  a  while  play  least  in  sight. 

This  resolution  b'ing  put  on, 

He  kept  some  months,  and  more  had  done,        370 

But  being  brought  so  nigh  by  Fate, 

The  vict'ry  he  achiev'd  so  late 

Did  set  his  thoughts  agog,  and  ope 

A  door  to  discontinu'd  hope. 

That  seem'd  to  promise  he  might  win  375 

His  dame  too,  now  his  hand  was  in  ; 

And  that  his  valour,  and  the  honour 

H'  had  newly  gain'd,  might  work  upon  her. 

These  reasons  made  his  mouth  to  water 

With  am'rous  longings  to  be  at  her :  seo 

Quoth  he,  unto  himself.  Who  knows 

But  this  brave  conquest  o'er  my  foes 

May  reach  her  heart,  and  make  that  stoop, 

As  I  but  now  have  forc'd  the  troop  ? 

VOL.   I.  11 


106  HUDIBRAS. 

If  nothing  can  oppugn  love,  386 

And  virtue  invious  ways  can  prove, 

"What  may  not  he  confide  to  do 

That  brings  both  love  and  virtue  too? 

But  thou  bring'st  valour  too,  and  wit, 

Two  things  that  seldom  fail  to  hit.  390 

Valour's  a  mouse-trap,  wit  a  gin. 

Which  women  oft  are  taken  in  : 

Then,  Hudibi-as,  why  should'st  thou  fear 

To  be,  that  art,  a  conqueror  ? 

Fortune  th'  audacious  doth  Juvare,  395 

But  lets  the  timidous  miscarry : 

Then,  while  the  honour  thou  hast  got 

Is  spick  and  span  new,  piping-hot, 

Strike  her  up  bravely  thou  hadst  best, 

And  trust  thy  fortune  with  the  rest.  400 

Such  thoughts  as  these  the  Knight  did  keep. 

More  than  his  bangs,  or  fleas,  from  sleep : 

And  as  an  owl,  that  in  a  barn 

Sees  a  mouse  creeping  in  the  corn, 

Sits  stdl,  and  shuts  his  round  blue  eyes  406 

As  if  he  slept,  until  he  spies 

The  little  beast  within  his  reach, 

Then  starts,  and  seizes  on  the  wretch ; 

So  from  his  couch  the  Knight  did  start, 

To  seize  upon  the  widow's  heart,  410 

Crying,  with  hasty  tone  and  hoarse, 

Ralpho,  dispatch,  to  horse,  to,  horse. 

And  'twas  but  time ;  for  now  the  rout, 

We  left  engag'd  to  seek  him  out. 


PART   I.     CANTO   III.  107 

By  speedy  marclies  were  advanc'd  415 

Up  to  the  fort  where  he  enscone'd, 
And  all  th'  avenues  had  possest 
About  the  place,  from  east  to  west. 

That  done,  awhile  they  made  a  halt 
To  view  the  ground,  and  where  t'  assault :         420 
Then  call'd  a  council,  which  was  best, 
By  siege  or  onslaught,  to  invest 
The  enemy ;  and  'twas  agreed 
By  storm  and  onslaught  to  proceed. 
This  b'ing  resolv'd,  in  comely  sort  435 

They  now  drew  up  t'attack  the  fort ; 
When  Hudibras,  about  to  enter 
Upon  another-gates  adventure, 
To  Ralpho  call'd  aloud  to  arm, 
Not  dreaming  of  approaching  storm.  430 

Wliether  Dame  Fortune,  or  the  care 
Of  angel  bad,  or  tutelar. 
Did  arm,  or  tlirust  him  on  a  danger 
To  which  he  was  an  utter  stranger, 
That  foresight  might,  or  might  not,  blot  435 

The  glory  he  had  newly  got. 
Or  to  his  shame  it  might  be  sed, 
They  took  him  napping  in  his  bed ; 
To  them  we  leave  it  to  expound 
That  deal  in  sciences  profound,  440 

His  courser  scarce  he  had  bestrid, 
And  Ralpho  that  on  which  he  rid, 

V.  437.    Var.  '  Might  be  said.' 


108  HUDIBEAS. 

When,  setting  ope  the  postern  gate, 

Which  they  thought  best  to  sally  at, 

The  foe  appear'd  drawn  up  and  drill'd,  44s 

Ready  to  charge  them  in  the  field. 

This  somewhat  startled  the  bold  Knight, 

Surpris'd  with  th'  unexpected  sight : 

The  bruises  of  his  bones  and  flesh 

He  thought  began  to  smart  afresh^  450 

Till,  recollecting  wonted  courage. 

His  fear  was  soon  converted  to  rage ; 

And  thus  he  spoke :  The  coward  foe, 

Whom  we  but  now  gave  quarter  to, 

Look,  yonder's  rally'd,  and  appears  4M 

As  if  they  had  outrun  their  fears. 

The  glory  we  did  lately  get. 

The  Fates  command  us  to  repeat ; 

And  to  their  wills  we  must  succumb, 

Quocunqiie  trahunt,  'tis  our  doom.  46O 

This  is  the  same  numeric  crew 

Which  we  so  lately  did  subdue  ; 

The  self-same  individuals  that 

Did  run,  as  mice  do  from  a  cat, 

Wlien  we  courageously  did  wield  46s 

Our  martial  weapons  in  the  field, 

To  tug  for  victory :  and  when 

We  shall  our  shining  blades  agen 

Brandish  in  terror  o'er  our  heads. 

They'll  straight  resume  their  wonted  dreads.     470 

V.  444.    Var.  '  To  take  the  field,  and  saUy  at.' 


PART   I.      CANTO   III.  109 

Fear  is  an  ague,  that  forsakes 

And  haunts,  by  fits,  tliose  whom  it  takes ; 

And  they'll  opine  they  feel  the  pain 

And  blows  they  felt,  to-day  again. 

Then  let  us  boldly  charge  them  home,  475 

And  make  no  doubt  to  overcome. 

This  said,  his  courage  to  inflame, 
He  call'd  upon  his  mistress'  name; 
His  pistol  next  he  cock'd  anew, 
And  out  his  nut-brown  whinyard  drew,  480 

And,  placing  Ralpho  in  the  front, 
Reserv'd  himself  to  bear  the  brunt. 
As  expert  warriors  use :  then  ply'd 
With  iron  heel  his  courser's  side, 
Conveying  sympathetic  speed  485 

From  heel  of  Knight  to  heel  of  steed. 

Meanwhile  the  foe,  with  equal  rage 
And  speed,  advancing  to  engage. 
Both  parties  now  were  drawn  so  close. 
Almost  to  come  to  handy-blows :  490 

When  Orsin  first  let  fly  a  stone 
At  Ralpho ;  not  so  huge  a  one 
As  that  which  Diomed  did  maul 
^neas  on  the  bum  withal. 

Yet  big  enough,  if  rightly  hurl'd,  495 

T'  have  sent  him  to  another  world, 
Whether  above  ground  or  below. 
Which  saints  twice  dipt  are  destin'd  to. 

v.  472.    Var.  '  Haunts  by  turns.' 


110  HUDIBRAS. 

The  danger  startled  the  bold  Squire, 

And  made  him  some  few  steps  retire ;  coo 

But  Hudibras  advanc'd  to  's  aid, 

And  rous'd  his  spirits  half-dismay'd. 

He,  wisely  doubting  lest  the  shot 

Of  th'  enemy,  now  growing  hot, 

Might  at  a  distance  gaU,  press'd  close  505 

To  come  peU-mell  to  handy-blows, 

And  that  he  might  their  aim  decline 

Advanc'd  still  in  an  oblique  line; 

But  prudently  forbore  to  fire, 

TUl  breast  to  breast  he  had  got  nigher,  sio 

As  expert  warriors  use  to  do 

When  hand  to  hand  they  charge  their  foe. 

This  order  the  advent'rous  Knight, 

Most  soldier-like,  observ'd  in  fight ; 

When  Fortune  (as  she's  wont)  turn'd  fickle,     515 

And  for  the  foe  began  to  stickle : 

The  more  shame  for  her  Goodyship, 

To  give  so  near  a  friend  the  slip. 

For  Colon,  choosing  out  a  stone, 

Levell'd  so  right,  it  thump'd  upon  630 

His  manly  paunch  with  such  a  force 

As  almost  beat  him  off  his  horse. 

He  loos'd  his  whinyard  and  the  rein. 

But,  laying  fast  hold  on  the  mane, 

Preserv'd  his  seat :  and  as  a  goose  625 


V.  523.    Var.   '  He  loos'd  his  weapon '  —  and,  '  He  lost  his 
whinyard.' 


PART   I.      CANTO   III.  Ill 

In  death  contracts  his  talons  close, 

So  did  the  Knight,  and  with  one  claw 

The  tricker  of  his  pistol  draw. 

The  gun  went  off;  and  as  it  was 

Still  fatal  to  stout  Hudibras,  sso 

In  all  his  feats  of  arms,  when  least 

He  dreamt  of  it,  to  prosper  best, 

So  now  he  fai-'d ;  the  shot,  let  fly 

At  random  'mong  the  enemy, 

Pierc'd  Talgol's  gabardine,  and  grazing  535 

Upon  his  shoulder,  in  the  passing 

Lodg'd  in  Magnano's  brass  habergeon, 

"Who  straight  A  surgeon,  cry'd,  A  surgeon : 

He  tumbled  down,  and,  as  he  fell. 

Did  Murder,  Murder,  Murder,  yell.  540 

This  startled  their  whole  body  so. 

That  if  the  Knight  had  not  let  go 

His  arms,  but  been  in  warlike  plight. 

He'd  won  (the  second  time)  the  fight ; 

As,  if  the  Squire  had  but  fall'n  on,  645 

He  had  inevitably  done. 

But  he,  diverted  with  the  care 

Of  Hudibras  his  hurt,  forbare 

To  press  th'  advantage  of  his  fortune, 

While  danger  did  the  rest  dishearten.  sso 

For  he  with  Cerdon  b'Lng  engag'd 

V.  545-548.    Var.  '  As  Ralplio  might,  but  he  with  care 

Of  Hudibras  Ms  hurt  forbare.' 
V.  548.     Var.  '  Hudibras  his  wound.' 
V.  651.    Var.  '  He  had  with  Cerdon.' 


112  ,  HUDIBRAS. 

In  close  encounter,  they  both  wag'd 

The  fight  so  well  'twas  hard  to  say 

Which  side  was  like  to  get  the  day. 

And  now  the  busy  work  of  Death  sss 

Had  tir'd  them  so,  th'  agreed  to  breathe, 

Preparing  to  renew  the  fight, 

When  the  disaster  of  the  Knight, 

And  th'  other  party,  did  divert 

Their  fell  intent,  and  forc'd  them  part.  seo 

Ralpho  press'd  up  to  Hudibras, 

And  Cerdon  where  Magnano  was, 

Each  striving  to  confirm  his  party 

With  stout  encouragements  and  hearty. 

Quoth  Ralpho,  Courage,  valiant  Sii*,  665 

And  let  revenge  and  honour  stir 
Your  spirits  up ;  once  more  fall  on, 
The  shatter'd  foe  begins  to  run : 
For  if  but  half  so  well  you  knew 
To  use  your  vict'ry  as  subdue,  570 

They  durst  not,  after  such  a  blow 
As  you  have  given  them,  face  us  now. 
But  from  so  formidable  a  soldier 
Had  fled  like  crows  when  they  smell  poAvder. 
Thrice  have  they  seen  your  sword  aloft  576 

Wav'd  o'er  their  heads,  and  fled  as  oft ; 
But  if  you  let  them  recollect 
Their  spirits,  now  dismay'd  and  checkt, 


V.  553.    Var.  '  So  desperately.' 

V.  560.    Var.  '  And  force  their  sullen  rage  to  part.' 


PART    I.       CANTO    III.  113 

You'll  have  a  harder  game  to  play 

Than  yet  y'  have  had,  to  get  the  day.  580 

Thus  spoke  the  stout  Squire,  but  was  heard 
By  Hudibras  with  small  regard ; 
His  thoughts  were  fuller  of  the  bang 
He  lately  took,  than  Ralph's  harangue : 
To  which  he  answer'd,  Cruel  Fate  5S5 

Tells  me  thy  counsel  comes  too  late. 
The  knotted  blood  within  my  hose, 
That  from  my  wounded  body  flows, 
With  mortal  crisis  doth  portend 
My  days  to  appropinque  an  end.  590 

I  am  for  action  now  unfit 
Either  of  fortitude  or  wit, 
Fortune,  my  foe,  begins  to  frown, 
Rosolv'd  to  pull  my  stomach  down. 
I  am  not  apt  upon  a  wound,  596 

Or  trivial  basting,  to  despond, 
Yet  I'd  be  loth  my  days  to  curtal ; 
For  if  I  thought  my  wounds  not  mortal, 
Or  that  w'  had  time  enough  as  yet 
To  make  an  honourable  retreat,  eoo 

'Twere  the  best  course  :  but  if  they  find 
We  fly,  and  leave  our  arms  behind. 
For  them  to  seize  on,  the  dishonour 
And  danger  too  is  such,  I'll  sooner 
Stand  to  it  boldly  and  take  quarter,  605 

To  let  them  see  I  am  no  starter. 

V.  587.    Var.  '  The  clotted  blood.' 


114  HUDIBRAS. 

Li  all  the  trade  of  war  no  feat 

Is  nobler  than  a  brave  retreat : 

For  those  that  run  away  and  fly 

Take  place  at  least  o'  th'  enemy.  6io 

This  said,  the  Squire,  with  active  speed, 
Dismounted  from  liis  bony  steed, 
To  seize  the  arms  which,  by  mischance, 
Fell  from  the  bold  Knight  in  a  trance : 
These  being  found  out,  and  restor'd  616 

To  Hudibras,  their  nat'ral  lord, 
As  a  man  may  say,  with  might  and  main 
He  hasted  to  get  up  again. 
Thrice  he  essay'd  to  mount  aloft, 
But  by  his  weighty  bum  as  oft  620 

He  was  pull'd  back,  till,  having  found 
Th'  advantage  of  the  rising  ground, 
Thither  he  led  his  warlike  steed. 
And,  having  plac'd  him  right,  with  speed 
Prepar'd  again  to  scale  the  beast ;  626 

When  Orsin,  who  had  newly  drest 
The  bloody  scar  upon  the  shoulder 
Of  Talgol  with  Promethean  powder. 
And  now  was  searching  for  the  shot 
That  laid  Magnano  on  the  spot,  630 

Beheld  the  sturdy  Squire  aforesaid, 
Preparing  to  climb  up  his  horse-side  : 
He  left  his  cure,  and,  laying  hold 

V.  617.    Var.  '  The  active  Squire,  witli  might  and  main, 
Prepar'd  iii  haste  to  mount  again.' 


PART   I.      CANTO    III.  115 

Upon  liis  arms,  with  courage  bold 

Cry'd  out,  'Tis  now  no  time  to  dally,  635 

The  enemy  begin  to  rally  ; 

Let  us  that  are  unhurt  and  whole 

Fall  on,  and  happy  man  be  's  dole. 

This  said,  hke  to  a  thunderbolt 
He  flew  with  fury  to  th'  assault,  640 

Striving  th'  enemy  to  attack  i 

Before  he  reach'd  his  horse's  back. 
Ralpho  was  mounted  now,  and  gotten 
O'erthwart  his  beast  with  active  vau'ting, 
"Wriggling  his  body  to  recover  645 

His  seat,  and  cast  his  right  leg  over : 
When  Orsin,  rushing  in,  bestow'd 
On  horse  and  man  so  heavy  a  load, 
The  beast  was  startled,  and  begun 
To  kick  and  fling  like  mad,  and  run,  6S0 

Bearing  the  tough  Squire  like  a  sack, 
Or  stout  King  Richard,  on  his  back ; 
TiU  stumbling,  he  threw  him  down. 
Sore  bruis'd  and  cast  into  a  swoon. 
Meanwliile  the  Knight  began  to  rouse  655 

The  sparkles  of  his  wonted  prowess : 
He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  hose, 
And  found,  both  by  his  eyes  and  nose, 
'Twas  only  choler,  and  not  blood, 
That  from  his  wounded  body  flow'd.  660 

This,  with  the  hazard  of  the  Squire, 
Inflam'd  him  with  despiteful  ire : 
Courageously  he  fac'd  about. 


116  HUDIBRAS. 

And  drew  his  other  pistol  out, 

And  now  had  half-way  bent  the  cock ;  666 

When  Cerdon  gave  so  fierce  a  shock 

With  sturdy  truncheon,  thwart  his  arm, 

That  down  it  fell  and  did  no  harm ; 

Then,  stoutly  pressing  on  with  speed, 

Assay'd  to  pull  him  off  his  steed.  570 

The  Knight  his  sword  had  only  left, 

With  which  he  Cerdon's  head  had  cleft, 

Or  at  the  least  crojjp'd  off  a  limb. 

But  Orsin  came,  and  rescu'd  him. 

He  with  his  lance  attack'd  the  Knight  675 

Upon  liis  quarters  opposite  : 

But  as  a  barque,  that  in  foul  weather, 

Toss'd  by  two  adverse  winds  together. 

Is  bruis'd  and  beaten  to  and  fro, 

And  knows  not  which  to  turn  him  to  ;  68O 

So  far'd  the  Knight  between  two  foes, 

And  knew  not  which  of  them  t'  oppose : 

Till  Orsin,  charging  with  his  lance 

At  Hudibras,  by  spiteful  chance 

Hit  Cerdon  such  a  bang,  as  stunn'd  685 

And  laid  him  flat  upon  the  ground. 

At  this  the  Knight  began  to  cheer  up. 

And,  raising  up  himself  on  stirrup, 

Cry'd  out,  Victoria,  lie  thou  there. 

And  I  shall  straight  dispatch  another  690 

To  bear  thee  company  in  death ; 

But  first  I'll  halt  awhile,  and  breathe : 

As  well  he  might ;  for  Orsin,  griev'd 


PAKT    I.       CANTO    III. 


117 


At  th'  wound  that  Cerdon  had  receiv'd, 

Ran  to  relieve  him  with  his  lore,  695 

And  cure  the  hurt  he  gave  before. 

Meanwhile  the  Knight  had  wheel'd  about 

To  breathe  himself,  and  next  find  out 

Th'  advantage  of  the  ground,  where  best 

He  might  the  ruffled  foe  infest.  700 

This  b'ing  resolv'd,  he  spurr'd  his  steed, 

To  run  at  Orsin  with  full  speed, 

While  he  was  busy  in  the  care 

Of  Cerdon's  wound,  and  unaAvare : 

But  he  was  quick,  and  had  already  706 

Unto  the  part  apply'd  remedy ; 

And  seeing  th'  enemy  prepar'd, 

Drew  up  and  stood  upon  his  guard. 

Then  like  a  warrior  right  expert 

And  skilful  in  the  martial  art,  -10 

The  subtle  Knight  straight  made  a  halt, 

And  judg'd  it  best  to  stay  th'  assault, 

Until  he  had  reliev'd  the  Squire, 

And  then  (in  order)  to  retire, 

Or,  as  occasion  should  invite,  715 

With  forces  join'd  renew  the  fight. 

Ralpho,  by  this  time  disentranc'd. 

Upon  his  bum  himself  advanc'd. 

Though  sorely  bruis'd  ;  his  hmbs  all  o'er 

With  ruthless  bangs  were  stiff  and  sore :  720 

Right  fain  he  would  have  got  upon 

His  feet  again,  to  get  him  gone. 

When  Hudibras  to  aid  him  came  : 


118  nUDlBRAS. 

Quoth  he  (a,nd  call'd  him  by  his  name), 
Courage,  the  day  at  length  is  ours,  72a 

And  we  once  more,  as  conqueror's. 
Have  both  the  field  and  honour  won ; 
The  foe  is  profiigate  and  run : 
I  mean  all  such  as  can,  for  some 
This  hand  hath  sent  to  their  long  home ;  730 

And  some  lie  sprawling  on  the  ground, 
With  many  a  gash  and  bloody  wound. 
Cissar  himself  could  never  say 
He  got  two  vict'ries  in  a  day 
As  I  have  done,  that  can  say,  twice  I  735 

In  one  day  veni,  vidi,  vici. 
The  foe's  so  numerous,  that  we 
Cannot  so  often  vincere, 
And  they  perire,  and  yet  enow 
Be  left  to  strike  an  after-blow :  740 

Then  lest  they  rally,  and  once  more 
Put  us  to  fight  the  bus'ness  o'er, 
Get  up  and  mount  thy  steed ;  dispatch, 
And  let  us  both  their  motions  watch. 

Quoth  Ralph,  I  should  not,  if  I  were  745 

In  case  for  action,  now  be  here ; 
Nor  have  I  turn'd  my  back,  or  hang'd 
An  arse,  for  fear  of  being  bang'd. 
It  was  for  you  I  got  these  harms, 
Advent'x-ing  to  fetch  off  your  arms.  760 

The  blows  and  drubs  I  have  receiv'd 
Have  bruis'd  my  body,  and  bereav'd 
My  limbs  of  strength :  unless  you  stoop 


PART   I.      CANTO    III.  119 

And  reach  your  hands  to  pull  me  up, 

I  shall  lie  here,  and  be  a  prey  7M 

To  those  who  now  are  run  away. 

That  thou  shalt  not  (quoth  Hudibras)  : 
We  read  the  ancients  held  it  was 
More  honourable  far  servare 
Givem  than  slay  an  adversary :  760 

The  one  we  oft  to-day  have  done. 
The  other  shall  dispatch  anon ; 
And,  though  thou'rt  of  a  diff'rent  church, 
I  will  not  leave  thee  in  the  lurch. 
Tliis  said,  he  jogg'd  his  good  steed  nigher,  765 

And  steer'd  him  gently  t'wards  the  Squire, 
Then,  bowing  down  his  body,  stretch'd 
His  hand  out,  and  at  Ralpho  reach'd ; 
When  Trulla,  whom  he  did  not  mind, 
Charg'd  him  like  lightening  behind.  770 

She  had  been  long  in  search  about 
Magnano's  wound,  to  find  it  out, 
But  could  find  none,  nor  where  the  shot 
That  had  so  startled  him  was  got ; 
But,  having  found  the  worst  was  past,  775 

She  fell  to  her  own  work  at  last. 
The  pillage  of  the  prisoners, 
Wliich  in  all  feats  of  arms  was  hers : 
And  now  to  plunder  Ralph  she  flew, 
When  Hudibras  his  hard  fate  drew  780 

To  succour  him ;  for  as  he  bow'd 
To  help  him  up,  she  laid  a  load 
Of  blows  so  heavy,  and  plac'd  so  well, 


120  HUDIBEAS. 

On  th'  other  side,  that  down  he  fell. 

Yield,  scoundrel  base  (quoth  she),  or  die  ;         -sa 

Thy  life  is  mine,  and  liberty  : 

But  if  thou  think'st  I  took  thee  tardy. 

And  dar'st  presume  to  be  so  hardy 

To  try  thy  fortune  o'er  afresh, 

I'll  wave  my  title  to  thy  flesh,  T90 

Thy  arms  and  baggage,  now  my  right, 

And,  if  thou  hast  the  heart  to  try  't, 

I'll  lend  thee  back  thyself  awhile, 

And  once  more,  for  that  carcase  vile. 

Fight  upon  tick.  —  Quoth  Hudibras,  7»s 

Thou  oflf'rest  nobly,  vahant  lass. 

And  I  shall  take  thee  at  thy  word : 

First  let  me  rise  and  take  my  sword. 

That  sword  which  has  so  oft  this  day 

Through  squadrons  of  my  foes  made  way,         soo 

And  some  to  other  worlds  dispatcht. 

Now,  with  a  feeble  spinster  matcht. 

Will  blush,  with  blood  ignoble  stain'd, 

By  which  no  honour's  to  be  gain'd. 

But  if  thou'lt  take  m'  advice  in  this,  805 

Consider,  whilst  thou  may'st,  what  'tis 

To  interrupt  a  victor's  course 

B'  opposing  such  a  trivial  force : 

For  if  with  conquest  I,  come  off 

(And  that  I  shall  do  sure  enough),  sio 

Quarter  thou  canst  not  have  nor  grace, 

By  law  of  arms,  in  such  a  case ; 

Both  which  I  now  do  offer  freely. 


PART    I.       CANTO    III.  121 

I  scorn  (quoth  she),  thou  coxcomb  silly 

(Clapping  her  hand  upon  her  breech,  sis 

To  show  how  much  she  priz'd  his  speech), 

Quarter  or  counsel  from  a  foe  ; 

If  thou  canst  force  me  to  it,  do : 

But  lest  it  should  again  be  said. 

When  I  have  once  more  won  thy  head,  830 

I  took  thee  napping,  unprepar'd. 

Arm,  and  betake  thee  to  thy  guard. 

This  said,  she  to  her  tackle  fell, 
And  on  the  Knight  let  fall  a  peal 
Of  blows  so  fierce,  and  press'd  so  home,  825 

That  he  retir'd,  and  foUow'd  's  bum. 
Stand  to't,  quoth  she,  or  yield  to  mercy ; 
It  is  not  fighting  arsie-versie 
Shall  serve  thy  turn.  —  This  stirr'd  his  spleen 
More  than  the  danger  he  was  in,  sso 

The  blows  he  felt  or  was  to  feel. 
Although  th'  already  made  him  reel. 
Honour,  despite,  revenge,  and  shame. 
At  once  into  his  stomach  came  ; 
Which  fir'd  it  so,  he  rais'd  his  arm  835 

Above  his  head  and  rain'd  a  storm 
Of  blows  so  terrible  and  thick, 
As  if  he  meant  to  hash  her  quick. 
But  she  upon  her  truncheon  took  them, 
And  by  oblique  diversion  broke  them,  640 

Waiting  an  opportunity 
To  pay  all  back  with  usury, 
Which  long  she  fail'd  not  of;  for  now 

VOL.  I.  12 


122  HUDIBRAS. 

The  Knioflit  with  one  dead-doina:  blow 

Resolving  to  decide  the  fight,  846 

And  she  with  quick  and  cunning  sleight 

Avoiding  it,  the  force  and  weight 

He  charg'd  upon  it  was  so  great 

As  almost  sway'd  him  to  the  ground. 

No  sooner  she  th'  advantage  found,  sao 

But  in  she  flew  ;  and,  seconding 

With  home-made  thrust  the  heavy  swing. 

She  laid  him  flat  upon  his  side, 

And,  mounting  on  his  trunk  astride, 

Quoth  she,  I  told  thee  what  would  come  sos 

Of  all  thy  vapouring,  base  scum : 

Say,  will  the  law  of  arms  allow 

I  may  have  grace  and  quarter  now  ? 

Or  wilt  thou  rather  break  thy  word, 

And  stain  thine  honour  than  thy  sword  ?  seo 

A  man  of  war  to  damn  his  soul, 

In  basely  breaking  his  parole  ! 

And  when  before  the  fight  th'  hadst  vow'd 

To  give  no  quarter  in  cold  blood  ; 

Now  thou  hast  got  me  for  a  Tartar,  865 

To  make  me  'gainst  my  will  take  quarter, 

Wliy  dost  not  put  me  to  the  sword. 

But  cowardly  fly  from  thy  word  ? 

V.  857-866.    Var. 

'  Shall  I  have  quarter  now,  you  niffin  ? 

Or  wilt  thou  be  worse  than  thy  huffing? 

Thou  saidst  th'  would'st  kill  me,  marry  would'st  thou  ? 

Why  dost  thou  not,  thou  Jack-a-nods  thou  ? ' 


PART   I.      CANTO    III.  123 

Quoth  Hudibras,  The  day's  thine  own  ; 
Thou  and  thy  stars  have  cast  me  down  :  870 

My  laurels  are  transplanted  now, 
And  flourish  on  thy  conqu'ring  brow  : 
My  loss  of  honour's  great  enough, 
Thou  need'st  not  brand  it  with  a  scoff: 
Sarcasms  may  eclipse  thine  own,  87» 

But  cannot  blur  my  lost  renown  : 
I  am  not  now  in  Foi'tune's  power  ; 
He  that  is  down  can  fall  no  lower. 
The  ancient  heroes  were  illustr'ous 
For  being  benign,  and  not  blustrous  880 

Against  a  vanquish'd  foe  :  their  swoi'ds 
Were  sharp  and  trenchant,  not  their  words ; 
And  did  in  fight  but  cut  work  out 
T'  employ  their  courtesies  about. 

Quoth  she,  Although  thou  hast  deserv'd,        ess 
Base  Slubberdegullion,  to  be  serv'd 
As  thou  didst  vow  to  deal  with  me 
If  thou  hadst  got  the  victory. 
Yet  I  shall  rather  act  a  part 
That  suits  my  fame  than  thy  desert :  890 

Thy  arms,  thy  liberty,  beside 
All  that's  on  th'  outside  of  thy  hide, 
Are  mine  by  military  law, 
Of  which  I  will  not  bate  one  straw ; 
The  rest,  thy  life  and  limbs,  once  more,  896 

Though  doubly  forfeit,  I  restore. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  It  is  too  late 
For  me  to  treat  or  stipulate  ; 


124  HUDIBRAS. 

Wliat  tliou  conunand'st  I  must  obey  ! 

Yet  those  whom  1  expugn'd  to-day,  floo 

Of  thine  own  party,  I  let  go. 

And  gave  them  life  and  freedom  too. 

Both  Dogs  and  Bear,  upon  their  parole, 

Wliom  I  took  pi-is'ners  in  this  quarrel. 

Quoth  TruUa,  lYhether  thou  or  they  bos 

Let  one  another  run  away, 

Concerns  not  me  ;  but  was  't  not  thou 

That  gave  Crowdero  quarter  too  ? 

Crowdero  whom,  in  irons  bound. 

Thou  basely  threw'st  into  Lob's  pound,  9io 

Where  still  he  lies,  and  with  regret 

His  gen'rous  bowels  rage  and  fret. 

But  now  thy  carcase  shall  redeem, 

And  serve  to  be  exchang'd  for  him. 

This  said,  the  Knight  did  straight  submit,     9i5 
And  laid  his  weapons  at  her  feet. 
Next  he  disrob'd  his  gabardine, 
And  with  it  did  himself  resign. 
She  took  it,  and  forthwith  divesting 
The  mantle  that  she  wore,  said  jesting,  920 

Take  that  and  wear  it  for  my  sake  ; 
Then  threw  it  o'er  his  sturdy  back. 
And  as  the  French  we  conquer'd  once 
Now  give  us  laws  for  pantaloons. 
The  length  of  breeches  and  the  gathers,  926 

Port-cannons,  periwigs,  and  feathers ; 
Just  so  the  proud  insulting  lass 
Airay'd  and  dighted  Hudibras. 


PART   I.      CANTO    III.  125 

Meanwhile  the  other  champions,  yerst 
In  hurry  of  the  fight  disperst,  930 

Arriv'd,  when  Trulla  won  tlie  day, 
To  share  i'  th'  honour  and  the  prey, 
And  out  of  Hudibras  his  hide 
With  vengeance  to  be  satisfy'd  ; 
Which  now  tliey  were  about  to  pour  935 

Upon  him  in  a  wooden  show'r, 
But  Trulla  thrust  herself  between. 
And,  striding  o'er  his  back  agen, 
She  brandish'd  o'er  her  head  his  sword, 
And  vow'd  they  should  not  break  her  word :     940 
She  'ad  given  him  quarter,  and  her  blood, 
Or  theu's,  should  make  that  quarter  good ; 
For  she  was  bound  by  law  of  arms 
To  see  him  safe  from  further  harms. 
In  dungeon  deep  Crowdero,  cast  94S 

By  Hudibras,  as  yet  lay  fast, 
Where,  to  the  hard  and  ruthless  stones. 
His  great  heart  made  perpetual  moans  ; 
Him  she  resolv'd  that  Hudibras 
Should  ransom,  and  supply  his  place.  960 

This  stopp'd  their  fury,  and  the  basting 
WMch  towards  Hudibras  was  hasting ; 
They  thought  it  was  but  just  and  right 
That  what  she  had  achiev'd  in  fight 
She  should  dispose  of  how  she  pleas'd ;  986 

Crowdero  ought  to  be  releas'd, 
Nor  could  that  any  way  be  done 
So  well  as  this  she  pitch'd  upon  : 


126  HUDIBRAS. 

For  who  a  better  could  imagine  ? 

This  therefore  they  resolv'd  t'  engage  in.  960 

The  Knight  and  Squire  first  they  made 

Rise  from  the  ground  where  they  were  laid, 

Then  mounted  both  upon  their  horses, 

But  with  their  faces  to  the  arses. 

Orsin  led  Hudibras's  beast,  965 

And  Talgol  that  which  Ralpho  prest ; 

Whom  stout  Magnano,  valiant  Cerdon, 

And  Colon,  waited  as  a  guard  on ; 

All  ush'rmg  TruUa  in  the  rear, 

With  th'  arms  of  either  prisoner.  970 

In  this  proud  order  and  array 

They  put  themselves  upon  their  way, 

Striving  to  reach  th'  enchanted  Castle, 

Where  stout  Crowdero'  in  durance  lay  still. 

Thither  with  greater  speed  than  shows  97* 

And  triumph  over  conquer'd  foes 

Do  use  t'  allow,  or  than  the  Bears, 

Or  pageants  borne  before  lord-mayors, 

Are  wont  to  use,  they  soon  arriv'd, 

In  order  soldier-like  contriv'd,  gso 

Still  marching  in  a  warlike  posture, 

As  fit  for  battle  as  for  muster. 

The  Knight  and  Squire  they  first  unhorse, 

And,  bending  'gainst  the  fort  their  force. 

They  all  advanc'd,  and  round  about  986 

Begirt  the  magical  redoubt. 

Magnan'  led  up  in  this  adventure. 

And  made  way  for  the  rest  to  enter  : 


PART    I.       CANTO    III. 


127 


For  lie  was  skilful  in  Black  Art 

No  less  than  he  that  built  the  fort,  990 

And  with  an  iron  mace  laid  flat 

A  breach,  which  straight  all  enter'd  at. 

And  in  the  wooden  dungeon  found 

Crowdero  laid  upon  the  ground  : 

Him  they  release  from  durance  base,  996 

Restor'd  t'  his  Fiddle  and  his  case, 

And  liberty,  his  thirsty  rage 

With  luscious  vengeance  to  assuage : 

For  he  no  sooner  was  at  large. 

But  TruUa  straight  brought  on  the  charge,       looo 

And  in  the  self-same  limbo  put 

The  Knight  and  Squire  Avhere  he  was  shut ; 

Where  leaving  them  in  Hockley-i'-th'-hole, 

Their  bangs  and  durance  to  condole, 

Confin'd  and  conjur'd  into  narrow  1005 

Enchanted  mansion  to  know  sorrow, 

In  the  same  order  and  array 

Which  they  advanc'd,  they  march'd  away. 

But  Hudibras,  who  scorn'd  to  stoop 

To  Fortune,  or  be  said  to  droop,  loio 

Cheer'd  up  himself  with  ends  of  verse 

And  sayings  of  philosophers. 

Quoth  he,  Th'  one  half  of  man,  his  mind, 
Is,  sui  juris,  unconfin'd, 

And  cannot  be  laid  by  the  heels,  lois 

Whate'er  the  other  moiety  feels. 

V.  1003.    Var.  '  t'  the  wretched  hole.' 


128  HUDIBRAS. 

'Tis  not  restraint  or  liberty 

That  makes  men  prisoners  or  free ; 

But  perturbations  that  possess 

The  mind  or  equanimities.  loao 

The  whole  world  was  not  half  so  wide 

To  Alexander,  when  he  cry'd 

Because  he  had  but  one  to  subdue, 

As  was  a  paltry  narrow  tub  to 

Diogenes  ;  who  is  not  said  1026 

(For  aught  that  ever  I  could  read) 

To  wliine,  put  finger  i'  th'  eye,  and  sob. 

Because  h'  had  ne'er  another  tub. 

The  Ancients  make  two  sev'ral  kinds 

Of  prowess  in  heroic  minds,  i030 

The  active  and  the  passive  val'ant. 

Both  which  are  pari  libra  gallant ; 

For  both  to  give  blows,  and  to  carry. 

In  fights  are  equi-necessary : 

But  in  defeats  the  passive  stout  i036 

Are  always  found  to  stand  it  out 

Most  desp'rately,  and  to  outdo 

The  active  'gainst  a  conqu'ring  foe. 

Though  we  with  blacks  and  blues  are  suggil'd. 

Or,  as  the  vulgar  say,  are  cudgel'd,  i040 

He  that  is  valiant  and  dares  fight. 

Though  drul)b'd,  can  lose  no  honour  by  't. 

Honour's  a  lease  for  lives  to  come. 

And  cannot  be  extended  from 

The  legal  tenant :  'tis  a  chattel  1045 

Not  to  be  forfeited  in  battle. 


PART    I.       CANTO    III.  129 

If  he  that  in  the  field  is  slain 

Be  in  the  bed  of  honoui-  lain, 

He  that  is  beaten  may  be  said 

To  he  in  Honour's  truckle-bed.  loso 

For  as  we  see  th'  eclipsed  sun 

By  mortals  is  more  gaz'd  upon 

Than  when,  adorn'd  with  all  his  light, 

He  shines  in  serene  sky  most  bright ; 

So  valour  in  a  low  estate  loss 

Is  most  admir'd  and  wonder'd  at. 

Quoth  Ralph,  How  great  I  do  not  know 
We  may  by  being  beaten  grow; 
But  none  that  see  how  here  we  sit 
WiU  judge  us  overgrown  with  wit.  106O 

As  Gifted  Brethren,  preaching  by 
A  carnal  hour-glass,  do  imply 
Illumination  can  convey 
Into  them  what  they  have  to  say, 
But  not  how  much ;  so  well  enough  1065 

Know  you  to  charge,  but  not  draw  off: 

V.  1061, 1062.  In  those  days  there  was  always  an  hour- 
glass stood  by  the  pulpit,  in  a  frame  of  iron  made  on  purpose 
for  it,  and  fastened  to  the  board  on  which  the  cusliion  lay,  that 
it  might  be  visible  to  the  whole  congregation ;  who,  if  the  ser- 
mon did  not  hold  till  the  glass  was  out  (which  was  turned  up 
as  soon  as  the  text  was  taken),  would  say  that  the  preacher 
was  lazy ;  and,  if  he  held  out  much  longer,  would  yawn  and 
stretch,  and  by  those  signs  signify  to  the  preacher  that  they 
began  to  be  weary  of  his  discoiirse,  and  wanted  to  be  dis- 
missed. These  hour-glasses  remained  in  some  churches  till 
within  these  forty  years.  If  they  liked  his  discourse,  they 
would  sometimes  ask  him  for  '  another  glass.'    Ed. 


130  HUDIBKAS. 

For  who,  without  a  cap  and  bawble, 

Having  subdued  a  Bear  and  rabble, 

And  might  with  honour  have  come  off, 

Would  put  it  to  a  second  proof?  1070 

A  politic  exploit,  right  fit 

For  Presbyterian  zeal  and  wit. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  That  cuckoo's  tone, 
Ralpho,  thou  always  harp'st  upon  : 
When  thou  at  any  thing  would'st  rail,  1076 

Thou  mak'st  Presbytery  thy  scale 
To  take  the  height  on't,  and  explain 
To  what  degree  it  is  profane. 
Wliats'ever  will  not  with  (thy  what-d'-ye-call) 
Thy  Light  jump  right,  thou  call'st  Synodical ;  loso 
As  if  Presbyt'ry  were  a  standard 
To  size  whats'ever's  to  be  slander'd. 
Dost  not  remember  how  this  day 
Thou  to  my  beard  wast  bold  to  say 
That  thou  could'st  prove  Bear-baiting,  equal    i03ft 
With  Synods,  orthodox  and  legal .'' 
Do,  if  thou  can'st ;  for  I  deny't, 
And  dare  thee  to't  with  all  thy  light.' 

Quoth  Ralpho,  Truly  that  is  no 
Hard  matter  for  a  man  to  do  io90 

v.  1072.  Kalplio  looked  upon  their  ill  plight  to  be  OTving  to 
his  master's  bad  conduct ;  and,  to  vent  his  resentment,  he  sa- 
tirises him  in  the  most  affecting  part  of  liis  character,  his  reU- 
gion.  This  by  degrees  brings  on  the  old  arguments  about  Sy- 
nods. The  Poet,  who  thought  he  had  not  sufficiently  lashed 
classical  assembUes,  very  judiciously  completes  it,  now  there 
is  full  leisure  for  it. 


PART   I.      CANTO    III.  131 

That  has  but  any  guts  in's  brains, 
And  could  believe  it  worth  his  pains  : 
But  since  you  dare  and  urge  me  to  it, 
You'll  find  I've  light  enough  to  do  it. 

Synods  are  mystical  Bear-gardens,  1096 

Where  Elders,  Deputies,  Church-wardens, 
And  other  Members  of  the  Court, 
Manage  the  Babylonish  sport ; 
For  Prolocutor,  Scribe,  and  Bear-ward, 
Do  differ  only  in  a  mere  word.  lioo 

Both  are  but  sev'ral  synagogues 
Of  carnal  men,  and  Bears  and  Dogs  : 
Both  antichristian  assemblies. 
To  mischief  bent  as  far  's  in  them  lies  : 
Both  stave  and  tail,  with  fierce  contests,  iios 

The  one  with  men,  the  other  beasts. 
The  diff'rence  is,  the  one  fights  with 
The  tongue,  the  other  with  the  teeth ; 
And  that  they  bait  but  Bears  in  this. 
In  th'  other  Souls  and  Consciences :  mo 

Where  Saints  themselves  are  brought  to  stake 
For  Gospel-light  and  Conscience'  sake  ; 
Expos'd  to  Scribes  and  Presbyters, 
Instead  of  Mastive  Dogs  and  Curs ; 
Than  whom  they've  less  humanity,  Iii6 

For  these  at  souls  of  men  will  fly. 
This  to  the  prophet  did  appear, 
Who  in  a  vision  saw  a  Bear, 
Prefiguring  the  beastly  rage 
Of  Church-rule  in  this  latter  age ;  1120 


132  HUDIBRAS. 

As  is  demonstrated  at  full 

By  him  that  baited  the  Pope's  Bull. 

Bears  nat'rallj  are  beasts  of  prey, 

That  live  by  rapine  ;  so  do  they. 

What  are  their  Orders,  Constitutions,  naa 

Church-censures,  Curses,  Absolutions, 

But  sev'ral  mystic  chains  they  make, 

To  tie  poor  Christians  to  the  stake  ? 

And  then  set  Heathen  officers. 

Instead  of  Dogs,  about  their  ears.  iiso 

For  to  prohibit  and  dispense. 

To  find  out,  or  to  make  offence ; 

Of  hell  and  heaven  to  dispose. 

To  play  with  souls  at  fast  and  loose  ; 

To  set  what  characters  they  please,  iiss 

And  mulcts  on  sin  or  godliness ; 

Reduce  the  Church  to  Gospel-order, 

By  rapine,  sacrilege,  and  murder ; 

To  make  Presbytery  supreme. 

And  Kings  themselves  submit  to  them ;  ii40 

And  force  aU  people,  though  against 

Their  consciences,  to  turn  Saints  ; 

Must  prove  a  pretty  thriving  trade, 

Wlien  Saints  monopolists  are  made: 

When  pious  frauds  and  holy  shifts  lus 

Are  Dispensations  and  Gifts, 

There  godliness  becomes  mere  ware, 

And  ev'ry  Synod  but  a  fair. 

Synods  are  whelps  o'  th'  Inquisition, 

A  mongrel  breed  of  like  pernicion,  iieo 


PART    I.      CANTO    III.  133 

And,  growing  up,  became  the  sires 

Of  Scribes,  Commissioners,  and  Triers  : 

Whose  bus'ness  is,  by  cunning  sleight 

To  cast  a  figure  for  men'h  hght ; 

To  find,  in  lines  of  beard  and  face,  iisj 

The  physiognomy  of  Grace  ; 

And  by  the  sound  and  twang  of  nose, 

J£  all  be  sound  within  disclose. 

Free  from  a  crack  or  flaw  of  sinning, 

As  men  try  pipkins  by  the  ringing  ;  1160 

By  black  caps  underlaid  with  white 

Give  certain  guess  at  inward  light, 

Wliich  Sergeants  at  the  Gospel  wear, 

To  make  the  Sp'ritual  Calling  clear. 

The  handkerchief  about  the  neck  ii65 

V.  1156.  These  Triers  pretended  to  great  skill  in  this 
respect ;  and,  if  they  disliked  the  beard  or  face  of  a  man,  they 
would,  for  that  reason  alone,  refuse  to  admit  him,  when  pre- 
sented to  a  living,  unless  he  had  some  powerful  friend  to  sup- 
port him.  "  The  questions  that  these  men  put  to  the  persons 
to  be  examined  were  not  abilities  and  learning,  but  grace  in 
their  hearts,  and  that  with  so  bold  and  saucy  an  inquisition, 
that  some  men's  spirits  trembled  at  the  interrogatories ;  they 
phrasing  it  so,  as  if  (as  was  said  at  the  Council  of  Trent) 
they  had  the  Holy  Ghost  in  a  cloke-bag." 

Their  questions  generally  were  these,  or  such  like :  When 
were  you  converted  ?  Where  did  you  begin  to  feel  the  motions 
of  the  Spirit?  In  what  year?  in  what  month?  in  what  day? 
about  what  hour  of  the  day  had  you  the  secret  call,  or  motion 
of  the  Spirit,  to  undertake  and  labour  in  the  ministry  ?  What 
work  of  grace  has  God  wrought  upon  your  soul?  And  a 
great  many  other  questions  about  regeneration,  predestination, 
and  the  like. 


134  HUDIBKAS. 

(Canonical  cravat  of  Smeck, 

From  whom  the  institution  came, 

Wlien  Church  and  State  they  set  on  flame, 

And  worn  by  them  as  badges  then 

Of  Spiritual  Warfaring-men)  iiTO 

Judge  rightly  if  Regeneration 

Be  of  the  newest  cut  in  fashion. 

Sure  'tis  an  orthodox  opinion, 

That  grace  is  founded  in  dominion  : 

Great  piety  consists  in  pride  ;  ii76 

To  rule  is  to  be  sanctify'd : 

To  domineer,  and  to  control, 

Both  o'er  the  body  and  the  soul, 

Is  the  most  perfect  discipline 

Of  Church-rule,  and  by  right  divine.  118O 

Bell  and  the  Dragon's  chaplains  were 

More  moderate  than  these  by  far : 

For  they  (poor  knaves)  were  glad  to  cheat, 

To  get  their  wives  and  children  meat ; 

But  these  will  not  be  fobb'd  off  so,  1186 

They  must  have  wealth  and  power  too  ; 

Or  else  with  blood  and  desolation 

They'll  tear  it  out  o'  th'  heart  o'  th'  nation. 

Sure  these  themselves  from  primitive 
And  Heathen  priesthood  do  derive,  1190 

When  butchers  were  the  only  clerks, 
Elders  and  Presbyters  of  Kirks  ; 
Whose  directory  was  to  kill, 

V.  1166.    *  Smectymans '  was  a  club  of  holders-forth. 


PART    I.       CANTO    III.  i'55 

And  some  belieA^e  it  is  so  still. 

The  only  dilF'rence  is  that  then  nss 

They  slaughter'd  only  beasts,  now  men. 

For  then  to  sacrifice  a  bullock, 

Or,  now  and  then,  a  child  to  Moloch, 

They  count  a  vile  abomination, 

But  not  to  slaughter  a  whole  nation.  1200 

Presbytery  does  but  translate 

The  papacy  to  a  free  state : 

A  commonwealth  of  Popery, 

Wliere  ev'ry  village  is  a  See 

As  well  as  Rome,  and  must  maintain  1205 

A  tithe-pig  metropolitan  ; 

Where  ev'ry  Presbyter  and  Deacon 

Commands  the  keys  for  cheese  and  bacon, 

And  ev'ry  hamlet's  governed 

By  's  Holiness,  the  Church's  head,  1210 

More  haughty  and  severe  in  's  place 

Than  Gregory  and  Boniface. 

Such  Church  must,  surely,  be  a  monster 

With  many  heads :  for  if  we  conster 

What  in  th'  Apocalypse  we  find,  1216 

According  to  th'  Apostle's  mind, 

'Tis  that  the  whore  of  Babylon 

With  many  heads  did  ride  upon ; 

Wliich  heads  denote  the  sinful  tribe 

Of  Deacon,  Priest,  Lay-elder,  Scribe.  isjmj 

Lay-elder,  Simeon  to  Levi, 
Whose  little  finger  is  as  heavy 
As  loins  of  patriarchs,  prince-prelate. 


T^G  HUDIBRAS. 

And  bisliop-secular.     This  zealot 

Is  of  a  mongrel  diverse  kind,  isac 

Clerick  before  and  Lay  behind ; 

A  lawless  linsey-woolsey  brother, 

Half  of  one  oi'der,  half  another  ; 

A  creature  of  amphibious  nature, 

On  land  a  beast,  a  fish  in  water :  1230 

That  always  preys  on  grace  or  sin  ; 

A  sheep  without,  a  wolf  within. 

This  fierce  inquisitor  has  chief 

Dominion  over  men's  belief 

And  manners ;  can  pronounce  a  saint  123{ 

Idolatrous,  or  ignorant. 

When  superciliously  he  sifts 

Through  coarsest  boulter  others'  gifts ; 

For  all  men  live  and  judge  amiss 

"Whose  talents  jump  not  just  with  his  ;  124c 

He'll  lay  on  Gifts  with  hands,  and  place 

On  dullest  noddle  Light  and  Grace, 

The  manufacture  of  the  kirk. 

Those  pastors  are  but  th'  handywork 

Of  his  mechanic  paws,  instilUng  1245 

Divinity  in  them  by  feeling ; 

From  whence  they  start  up  Chosen  Vessels, 

Made  by  contact,  as  men  get  measles. 

So  Cardinals,  they  say,  do  grope 

At  th'  other  end  the  new-made  Pope.  1250 

Hold,  hold,  quoth  Hudibras,  soft  fire. 
They  say,  does  make  sweet  malt.      Good  Squire, 
Festina  lente,  not  too  fast, 


PAKT   I.       CANTO    III.  137 

For  haste  (the  proverb  says)  makes  waste. 

The  quirks  and  cavils  thou  dost  make  1255 

Are  false  and  built  upon  mistake : 

And  I  shall  bring  you,  with  your  pack 

Of  fallacies,  t'  Elenchi  back  ; 

And  put  your  arguments  m  mood 

And  figure  to  be  understood.  126O 

I'U  force  you  by  right  ratiocination 

To  leave  your  vitilitigation. 

And  make  you  keep  to  th'  question  close 

And  argue  dialecticSoS. 

The  question  then,  to  state  it  first,  isas 

Is,  which  is  better  or  which  worst. 
Synods  or  Bears  ?     Bears  I  avow 
To  be  the  worst,  and  Synods  thou ; 
But  to  make  good  th'  assertion. 
Thou  say'st  they're  really  all  one.  1270 

If  so,  not  worse ;  for  if  they're  idem. 
Why  then  tantundem  dat  tantidem. 
For  if  they  are  the  same,  by  course 
Neither  is  better,  neither  worse. 
But  I  deny  they  are  the  same,  1275 

More  than  a  maggot  and  I  am. 
That  both  are  animalia 
I  grant,  but  not  rationalia : 
For  though  they  do  agree  in  kmd, 
Specific  difference  we  find ;  128O 

And  can  no  more  make  Bears  of  these, 
Than  prove  my  horse  is  Socrates. 
That  Synods  are  Bear-gardens,  too, 

VOL.  I.  13 


138  HUDIBRAS. 

Thou  dost  affirm ;  but  I  say  No  : 

And  thus  I  prove  it,  in  a  word ;  1286 

WLats'ever  Assembly  's  not  empow'r'd 

To  Censure,  Curse,  Absolve,  and  ordain. 

Can  be  no  Synod  ;  but  Bear-garden 

Has  no  such  pow'r ;  ergo,  'tis  none : 

And  so  thy  sophistry  's  o'erthrown.  laeo 

But  yet  we  are  beside  the  quest'on 
Which  thou  didst  raise  the  first  contest  on : 
For  that  was.  Whether  Bears  are  better 
Than  Synod-men  ?    I  say  Negatur. 
That  Bears  are  beasts,  and  Synods  men,  1293 

Is  held  by  all :  they're  better  then ; 
For  Bears  and  Dogs  on  four  legs  go, 
As  beasts ;  but  Synod-men  on  two. 
'Tis  true  they  all  have  teeth  and  naUs ; 
But  prove  that  Synod-men  have  tails ;  isoo 

Or  that  a  rugged  shaggy  fur 
Grows  o'er  the  hide  of  Presbyter ; 
Or  that  his  snout  and  spacious  ears 
Do  hold  proportion  with  a  Bear's. 
A  Bear's  a  savage  beast,  of  all  isos 

Most  ugly  and  unnatural : 
Wlielp'd  without  form,  until  the  dam 
Has  lickt  it  into  shape  and  frame : 
But  all  thy  hght  can  ne'er  evict 
That  ever  Synod-man  was  lickt,  isio 

Or  brought  to  any  other  fashion 
Than  his  own  will  and  incUnation. 

But  thou  dost  further  yet  in  this 


PART    I.      CANTO    III.  139 

Oppugn  thyself  and  sense ;  that  is, 

Thou  would'st  have  Presbyters  to  go  1315 

For  Bears  and  Dogs,  and  Bear-wards  too : 

A  strange  chimera  of  beasts  and  men, 

Made  up  of  pieces  het'rogene ; 

Such  as  in  Nature  never  met 

In  eodevi  suhjecto  yet.  1320 

Thy  other  arguments  are  all 
Supposures  hypothetical, 
That  do  but  beg ;  and  we  may  choose 
Either  to  grant  them  or  refuse. 
Much  thou  hast  said,  which  I  know  when         1326 
And  where  thou  stol'st  from  other  men 
(Whereby  'tis  plain  thy  Light  and  Gifts 
Are  all  but  plagiaiy  shifts), 
And  is  the  same  that  Ranter  said, 
WTio,  arguing  with  me,  broke  my  head,  1330 

And  tore  a  handful  of  my  beard : 
The  self-same  cavils  then  I  heard, 
When,  b'ing  in  hot  dispute  about 
This  controversy,  we  fell  out ; 
And  what  thou  knoAv'st  I  answer'd  then  1335 

Will  serve  to  answer  thee  agen. 


V.  1329.  The  Ranters  were  a  vile  sect  that  sprang  up  in 
those  times.  Alexander  Eoss  observes,  "  That  they  held  that 
God,  devil,  angels,  heaven  and  hell,  &c.  were  fictions  and 
fables ;  that  Hoses,  John  Baptist,  and  Christ,  were  impostors ; 
and  what  Christ  and  the  Apostles  acquainted  the  world  with, 
as  to  matter  of  religion,  perished  with  them;  that  preaching 
and  praying  are  useless,  and  that  preaching  is  but  publick 


140  HUDIBRAS. 

Quoth  Ralpho,  Notliing  but  th'  abuse 
Of  human  learning  you  produce  ; 
Learning,  that  cobweb  of  the  brain, 
Profane,  erroneous,  and  vain  ;  1340 

A  trade  of  knowledge  as  replete 
As  others  are  with  fraud  and  cheat ; 
An  art  t'  encumber  Gifts  and  wit, 


lying;  that  there  is  an  end  of  all  ministiy  and  administrations, 
and  people  are  to  be  taught  immediately  from  God,"  &c. 

V.  1339.  Ralpho  was  as  great  an  enemy  to  human  learning 
as  Jack  Cade  and  his  fellow  rebels.  Cade's  words  to  Lord 
Say,  before  he  ordered  his  head  to  be  cut  off:  "I  am  the 
besom  that  must  sweep  the  Court  clean  of  such  filth  as  thou 
art;  thou  hast  most  traitorously  comipted  the  youth  of  the 
realm  in  erecting  a  grammar-school;  and  whereas,  before, 
our  forefathers  had  no  other  books  but  the  Score  and  the 
Tally,  thou  hast  caused  Printing  to  be  used ;  and,  contrary 
to  the  King,  his  crown  and  dignity,  thou  hast  built  a  Paper- 
mill.  It  Avill  be  proved  to  thy  face,  that  thou  hast  men  about 
thee  that  usually  talk  of  a  noun  and  a  verb,  and  such  abomi- 
nable words,  as  no  Christian  ear  can  endure  to  hear." 

It  was  the  opinion  of  those  tinkers,  tailors,  &c.  that  go- 
verned Chelmsford  at  the  beginning  of  the  Rebellion,  "  That 
learning  had  always  been  an  enemy  to  the  Gospel,  and  that 
it  were  a  happy  thing  if  there  were  no  universities,  and  that 
all  books  were  burned  except  the  Bible." 

"I  tell  you  (says  a  writer  of  those  times)  wicked  books  do 
as  much  wound  us  as  the  swords  of  our  adversaries ;  for  this 
manner  of  learning  is  supei-fluous  and  costly :  many  tongues 
and  languages  are  only  confusion,  and  only  wit,  reason,  under- 
standing, and  scholarship,  are  the  main  means  that  oppose  us, 
and  hinder  our  cause ;  therefore,  if  ever  we  have  the  fortune 
to  get  the  upperhand  —  we  will  down  with  all  law  and  leam- 
mg,  and  have  no  other  nile  but  the  Carpenter's,  nor  any 
writing  or  reading  but  the  Score  and  the  Tally." 


PART   I.      CANTO    III.  141 

And  render  both  for  nothing  fit ; 

Makes  Light  un active,  dull  and  troubled,         1345 

Like  little  David  in  Saul's  doublet : 

A  cheat  that  scholars  put  upon 

Other  men's  reason  and  their  own ; 

A  fort  of  error,  to  ensconce 

Absurdity  and  ignorance,  isso 

That  renders  all  the  avenues 

To  truth  impervious  and  abstruse, 

By  makuig  plain  things,  in  debate, 

By  art  perplext  and  intricate : 

For  nothing  goes  for  Sense  or  Light,  1353 

That  will  not  with  old  rules  jump  right ; 

As  if  rules  were  not  in  the  schools 

Deriv'd  from  truth,  but  truth  from  rules. 

This  Pagan,  Heathenish  invention 

Is  good  for  nothing  but  contention :  iseo 

For  as  in  sword  and  buckler  fight 

All  blows  do  on  the  target  light. 

So,  when  men  argue,  the  great'st  part 

0'  th'  contest  falls  on  terms  of  art, 

Until  the  fustian  stuff  be  spent,  1365 

And  then  they  fall  to  th'  argument. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  Friend  Ralph,  thou  hast 

Outrun  the  constable  at  last : 

For  thou  art  fallen  on  a  new 

Dispute,  as  senseless  as  untrue,  1370 

But  to  the  former  opposite, 

And  contrary  as  black  to  white  : 

Mere  disparata  ;  that  concerning 


142  HUDIBRAS. 

Presbytery,  this  human  learning ; 

Two  things  s'  averse,  they  never  yet  1375 

But  in  thy  rambling  fancy  met. 

But  I  shall  take  a  fit  occasion 

T'  evince  thee  by'  ratiocination, 

Some  other  time  in  place  more  proper 

Than  this  we  're  in ;  therefore  let's  stop  here,  1390 

And  rest  our  weary'd  bones  awliile, 

Already  tir'd  with  other  toil. 


PABT   IL       CANTO    I.  143 


PART    II.    CANTO    I. 

THE   ARGUMENT. 

The  Knight,  by  damnable  Magician, 
Being  caSt  illegally  in  prison, 
Love  brmgs  his  action  on  the  case, 
And  lays  it  upon  Hudibras. 
How  he  receives  the  Lady's  visit. 
And  cunningly  solicits  his  suit, 
Which  she  defers ;  yet,  on  parole. 
Redeems  him  from  th'  enchanted  hole. 

But  now,  t'  observe  Roinantique  method, 
Let  bloody  steel  awhile  be  sheathed. 
And  all  those  harsh  and  rugged  sounds 
Of  bastinadoes,  cuts,  and  wounds, 
Exchang'd  to  love's  more  gentle  style, 


Arg.  V.  1,  2.     Var. 

'  The  Knight  being  clapp'd  by  th'  heels  in  prison. 
The  last  unhappy  expedition.' 

Arg.  V.  5.     Var.  '  How  he  revi's,'  &c. 

V.  1.  The  beginning  of  this  Second  Part  may  perhaps 
seem  strange  and  abrupt  to  those  who  do  not  know  that  it 
was  written  on  purpose  in  imitation  of  Virgil,  who  begins  the 
Fourth  Book  of  his  ^neid  m  the  very  same  manner,  'At 
regina  gravi,'  &c.  And  this  is  enough  to  satisfy  the  curiosity 
of  those  who  believe  that  invention  and  fancy  ought  to  be 
measured,  like  cases  in  law,  by  precedents,  or  else  they  are 
in  the  power  of  the  critic. 

V.  2.    Var.  '  Let  rusty  steel,'  and  '  To  trusty  steel.' 


144  HUDIBRAS. 

To  let  our  reader  breathe  awhile. 

In  which,  that  we  may  be  as  brief  as 

Is  possible,  by  way  of  preface : 

Is  't  not  enough  to  make  one  strange, 

That  some  men's  fancies  should  ne'er  change,     lo 

But  make  all  people  do  and  say 

The  same  things  still  the  self-same  way  ? 

Some  writers  make  all  ladies  purloin'd, 

And  knights  pursuing  like  a  whirlwind : 

Others  make  all  their  knights,  in  fits  15 

Of  jealousy,  to  lose  their  wits ; 

Till  drawing  blood  o'  th'  dames,  like  witches, 

They're  forthwith  cur'd  of  their  capriches. 

Some  always  thrive  in  their  amours, 

By  pulling  plasters  off  their  sores  30 

As  cripples  do  to  get  an  alms, 

Just  so  do  they,  and  win  their  dames. 

Some  force  whole  regions,  in  despite 

O'  geography,  to  change  their  site  ; 

Make  former  times  shake  hands  with  latter,     •  25 

And  that  which  was  before  come  after. 

But  those  that  write  in  rhyme  still  make 

The  one  verse  for  the  other's  sake ; 

For  one  for  sense,  and  one  for  rhyme, 

I  think  's  sufficient  at  one  time.  so 

V.  5  -  8.    Var.  '  And  unto  love  trim  we  oiir  style, 
To  let  our  readers  breathe  awhile, 
By  this  time  tir'd  with  th'  horrid  sounds 
Of  blows,  and  cuts,  and  blood,  and  wounds.' 

V.  10.    Var.  '  That  a  man's  fancy.' 


PART   II.      CANTO    I.  145 

But  we  forget  in  what  sad  plight 
We  whilom  left  the  captiv'd  Knight 
And  pensive  Squire,  both  bruis'd  in  body, 
And  coujur'd  into  safe  custody. 
Tu-'d  with  dispute,  and  speaking  Latin,  35 

As  well  as  bastuig  and  Bear-baiting, 
And  desperate  of  any  course 
To  free  himself  by  wit  or  force. 
His  only  solace  was,  that  now 
His  dog-bolt  fortune  was  so  low,  *o 

That  either  it  must  quickly  end. 
Or  turn  about  again,  and  mend ; 
In  which  he  found  th'  event,  no  less 
Than  other  times,  beside  his  guess. 

There  is  a  tall  long-sided  dame,  45 

(But  wond'rous  hght)  ycleped  Fame, 
That  hke  a  thin  cameleon  boards 
Herself  on  air,  and  eats  her  Avords  ; 
Upon  her  shoulders  wings  she  wears 
Like  hanging  sleeves,  lin'd  through  with  ears,     so 
And  eyes,  and  tongues,  as  poets  list. 
Made  good  by  deep  mythologist : 
"With  these  she  thi'ough  the  welkin  flies. 
And  sometimes  carries  truth,  oft  lies ; 
"With  letters  hung,  like  eastern  pigeons,  65 

V.  32.    Var.  '  "We  lately.' 

V.  48.  The  beauty  of  this  consists  in  the  double  meaning. 
The  first  alludes  to  Fame's  living  on  Keport:  the  second  is 
an  insinuation,  that  if  a  report  is  narrowly  enquked  into,  and 
traced  up  to  the  original  author,  it  is  made  to  contradict  itself. 


146  HUDIBRAS. 

And  Mercuries  of  furthest  regions ; 
Diurnals  writ  for  regulation 
Of  lying,  to  inform  the  nation, 
And  by  their  public  use  to  bring  down 
The  rate  of  whetstones  in  the  kingdom.  so 

About  her  neck  a  packet-mail, 
Fraught  with  advice,  some  fresh,  some  stale ; 
Of  men  that  walk'd  when  they  were  dead, 
And  cows  of  monsters  brought  to  bed ; 
Of  hailstones  big  as  pullets'  eggs,  65 

And  puppies  whelp'd  with  twice  two  legs  ; 
A  blazing  star  seen  •in  the  west, 
By  six  or  seven  men  at  least. 
Two  trumpets  she  does  sound  at  once, 
But  both  of  clean  contrary  tones ;  70 

But  whether  both  with  the  same  wind, 
Or  one  before  and  one  behind, 
"We  know  not,  only  this  can  tell, 
The  one  sounds  vilely,  th'  other  well ; 
And  therefore  vulgar  authors  name  7» 

Th'  one  Good,  the  other  evil  Fame. 
This  tattling  gossip  knew  too  well 
What  mischief  Hudibras  befell ; 
And  straight  the  spiteful  tidings  bears 
Of  aU,  to  th'  unkind  Widow's  ears.  80 

Democritus  ne'er  laugh'd  so  loud 
To  see  bawds  carted  through  the  crowd. 
Or  funerals,  with  stately  pomp, 

V.  77.    Var.  '  Twattling  gossip.' 


PART   II.      CANTO    I.  147 

March  slowly  on  in  solemn  dump, 

As  she  laugh'd  out,  until  her  back,  85 

As  well  as  sides,  was  Uke  to  crack. 

She  vow'd  she  would  go  see  the  sight, 

And  visit  the  distressed  Knight ; 

To  do  the  office  of  a  neighbour, 

And  be  a  gossip  at  his  labour;  90 

And  from  his  wooden  jail  the  stocks 

To  set  at  large  his  fetter-locks  ; 

And  by  exchange,  parole,  or  ransom, 

To  free  him  from  th'  enchanted  mansion. 

This  b'ing  resolv'd,  she  call'd  for  hood  96 

And  usher,  implements  abroad 

Which  ladies  wear,  besides  a  slender 

Young  waiting  damsel  to  attend  her. 

All  which  appearing,  on  she  went 

To  find  the  Knight,  in  limbo  pent ;  lOO 

And  'twas  not  long  before  she  found 

Him  and  his  stout  Squire  in  the  pound, 

Both  coupled  in  enchanted  tether 

By  further  leg  behind  together. 

For  as  he  sat  upon  his  rump,  106 

His  head,  like  one  in  doleful  dump. 

Between  his  knees,  his  hands  apply'd 

Unto  his  ears  on  either  side, 

And  by  him  in  another  hole 

Afflicted  Ralpho,  cheek  by  jowl ;  iiO 


V.  91.    Var.  '  That  is  to  see  liim  deliver'd  safe 

Of 's  wooden  burden,  and  Squire  Eaph.' 


148  HUDIBRAS. 

She  came  upon  liim  in  his  wooden 

Magician's  circle  on  a  sudden, 

As  sj)irits  do  t'  a  conjurer 

Wlien  in  their  dreadful  shapes  th'  appear. 

No  sooner  did  the  Knight  perceive  her,         115 
But  straight  he  fell  into  a  fever, 
Inflam'd  all  over  with  disgrace 
To  be  seen  by  her  in  such  a  place ; 
Which  made  him  hang  his  head,  and  scowl, 
And  wink,  and  goggle  like  an  owl :  120 

He  felt  his  brains  begin  to  swim. 
When  thus  the  Dame  accosted  him. 

This  place  (quoth  she)  they  say  's  enchanted, 
And  with  delmquent  spirits  haunted, 
That  here  are  ty'd  in  chains  and  scourg'd  125 

Until  their  guilty  crimes  be  purg'd : 
Look,  there  are  two  of  them  appear 
Like  persons  I  have  seen  somewhere. 
Some  have  mistaken  blocks  and  posts 
For  spectres,  apparitions,  ghosts,  130 

With  saucer  eyes,  and  horns  ;  and  some 
Have  heard  the  devil  beat  a  drum  ; 
But,  if  our  eyes  are  not  false  glasses 
That  give  a  wrong  account  of  faces, 

V.  Ill,  112.  There  was  never  certainly  a  pleasanter  scene 
imagined  than  this  before  us ;  it  is  the  most  diverting  incident 
in  the  whole  Poem.  The  unlucky  and  unexpected  visit  of  the 
Lady,  the  attitude  and  surprise  of  the  Knight,  the  confusion 
and  blushes  of  the  lover,  and  the  satirical  raillery  of  a  mistress, 
are  represented  in  lively  colours,  and  conspire  to  make  this 
interview  wonderfully  pleasing. 


PART   II.      CANTO    I.  149 

That  beard  and  I  should  be  acquainted  135 

Before  'twas  conjur'd  and  enchanted ; 

For,  though  it  be  disfigur'd  somewhat, 

As  if  't  had  lately  been  in  combat, 

It  did  belong  to  a  worthy  Knight, 

Howe'er  this  goblin  is  come  by  't.  140 

Wlien  Hudibras  the  Lady  heard 
Discoursing  thus  upon  his  beard. 
And  speak  with  such  respect  and  honour 
Both  of  the  beard  and  the  beard's  owner, 
He  thought  it  best  to  set  as  good  146 

A  face  upon  it  as  he  could ; 
And  thus  he  spoke :  Lady,  your  bright 
And  radiant  eyes  are  in  the  right ; 
The  beard  's  th'  identique  beard  you  knew, 
The  same  numerically  true ;  16O 

Nor  is  it  worn  by  fiend  or  elf. 
But  its  proprietor  himself. , 

O  heavens !  quoth  she,  can  that  be  true  ? 
I  do  begin  to  fear  'tis  you ; 

Not  by  your  individual  whiskers,  ise 

But  by  your  dialect  and  discourse, 
That  never  spoke  to  man  or  beast 
Li  notions  vulgarly  exprest : 
But  what  malignant  star,  alas ! 
Has  brought  you  both  to  this  sad  pass  ?  I60 

Quoth  he,  The  fortune  of  the  war. 
Which  I  am  less  afflicted  for 

V.  142.    Var.  '  To  take  kind  notice  of  his  beard.' 


150  HUDIBRAS. 

Than  to  be  seen  with  beard  and  face 
By  you  in  such  a  homely  case. 

Quoth  she,  Those  need  not  be  asham'd  les 

For  being  honourably  maim'd  : 
If  he  that  is  in  battle  conquer'd 
Have  any  title  to  his  own  beard, 
Though  yours  be  sorely  lugg'd  and  torn, 
It  does  your  visage  more  adorn  no 

Than  if  'twere  prun'd  and  starch'd  and  lander'd, 
And  cut  square  by  the  Russian  standard. 
A  torn  beard  's  like  a  tatter'd  ensign  ; 
That 's  bravest  which  there  are  most  rents  in. 
That  petticoat  about  your  shoulders  178 

Does  not  so  well  become  a  soldier's  ; 
And  I'm  afraid  they  are  worse  handled. 
Although  i'  th'  rear  your  beard  the  van  led ; 
And  those  uneasy  bruises  make 
My  heart  for  company  to  ake,  180 

To  see  so  worshipful  a  friend 
r  th'  pillory  set,  at  the  wrong  end. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  This  thing  call'd  Pain 
Is  (as  the  learned  Stoics  maintain) 
Not  bad  simpliciter,  nor  good,  i86 

But  merely  as  'tis  understood. 
Sense  is  deceitful,  and  may  feign 
As  well  in  counterfeiting  pain 
As  other  gross  phenomenas. 
In  wliich  it  oft  mistakes  the  case.  190 

V.  164.     Var.  '  In  such  elenctiijue  case.' 


PART   II.      CANTO    I.  151 

But  since  th'  immortal  intellect 

(That 's  free  from  error  and  defect, 

"Whose  objects  still  persist  the  same) 

Is  free  from  outward  bruise  or  maim, 

Wliich  nought  external  can  expose  .'?5 

To  gross  material  bangs  or  blows, 

It  follows  Ave  can  ne'er  be  sure 

Whether  we  pain  or  not  endure  ; 

And  just  so  far  are  sore  and  griev'd 

As  by  the  fancy  is  believ'd.  2fo 

Some  have  been  wounded  with  conceit, 

And  dy'd  of  mere  opinion  straight  ; 

Others,  though  wounded  sore  in  reason, 

Felt  no  contusion  nor  discretion. 

A  Saxon  duke  did  grow  so  fat  sos 

That  mice  (as  histories  relate) 

Ate  grots  and  labyrinths  to  dweU  in 

His  postique  parts,  without  his  feeling ; 

Then  how  is  't  possible  a  kick 

Should  e'er  reach  that  way  to  the  quick  ?  210 

Quoth  she,  I  grant  it  is  in  vain 
For  one  that 's  basted  to  feel  pain, 
Because  the  pangs  his  bones  endure 
Contribute  nothing  to  the  cure  ; 
Yet  honour  hurt  is  wont  to  rage  Q15 

With  pain  no  med'cine  can  assuage. 

Quoth  he,  That  honour  's  very  squeamish 
That  takes  a  basting  for  a  blemish ; 
For  what 's  more  hon'rable  than  scars, 
Or  skin  to  tatters  rent  in  wars  ?  220 


152  HUDIBRAS. 

Some  have  been  beaten  till  they  know 

What  wood  a  cudgel  's  of  by  th'  blow  ; 

Some  kick'd  until  they  can  feel  whether 

A  shoe  be  Spanish  or  neat's  leather ; 

And  yet  have  met,  after  long  running,  295 

"With  some  whom  they  have  taught  that  cunning. 

The  furthest  way  about  t'  o'ercome 

In  th'  end  does  prove  the  nearest  home. 

By  laws  of  learned  duellists, 

They  that  are  bruis'd  with  wood  or  fists,  230 

And  think  one  beating  may  for  once 

Suffice,  are  cowards  and  pultroons  ; 

But  if  they  dare  engage  t'  a  second. 

They  're  stout  and  gallant  fellows  reckon'd. 

Th'  old  Romans  freedom  did  bestow,  236 

Our  princes  worship,  with  a  blow. 

King  Pyrrhus  cur'd  his  splenetic 

And  testy  courtiers  with  a  kick. 

The  Negus,  when  some  mighty  lord 

Or  potentate  's  to  be  restor'd,  340 

And  pardon'd  for  some  great  offence 

With  which  he  's  willing  to  dispense, 

First  has  him  laid  upon  his  belly. 

Then  beaten  back  and  side  t'  a  jelly  : 

That  done,  he  rises,  humbly  bows,  246 

And  gives  thanks  for  the  princely  blows ; 

V.  232.    Var.  '  Poltroons.' 
v.  239.    A  king  of  Ethiopia. 

"V.  241,  242.    Var.  '  To  his  good  grace  for  some  offence 
Forfeit  before,  and  pardon'd  since.' 


PART   II.      CANTO    I.  153 

Departs  not  meanly  proud,  and  boasting 

Of  his  magnificent  rib-roasting. 

Tlie  beaten  soldier  proves  most  manful 

That,  like  his  sword,  endures  the  anvil ;  2&0 

And  justly  's  held  more  formidable. 

The  more  his  valour  's  malleable : 

But  he  that  fears  a  bastinado 

Will  run  away  from  his  own  shadow. 

And  though  I'm  now  in  durance  fast  255 

By  our  own  party  basely  cast, 

Ransom,  exchange,  parole  refus'd, 

And  worse  than  by  the  en'my  us'd ; 

In  close  catasta  shut,  past  hope 

Of  wit  or  valour  to  elope  ;  260 

As  beards,  the  nearer  that  they  tend 

To  th'  earth,  still  grow  more  reverend, 

And  cannons  shoot  the  higher  pitches 

The  lower  we  let  down  their  breeches, 

I'll  make  this  low  dejected  fate  266 

Advance  me  to  a  greater  heiojlit. 

Quoth  she,  You  've  almost  made  me'  in  love 
With  that  which  did  my  pity  move. 
Great  wits  and  valours,  like  great  states, 
Do  sometimes  sink  with  their  own  weights :       270 
Th'  extremes  of  glory  and  of  shame, 
Like  east  and  west,  become  the  same  : 
No  Indian  prince  has  to  his  j^alace 
More  foU'wers  than  a  thief  to  th'  gallows, 
But,  if  a  beating  seem  so  brave,  275 

What  glories  must  a  whipping  have  ? 

VOL.  I.  14 


154  HUDIBRAS. 

Sucli  great  acWevements  cannot  fail 

To  cast  salt  on  a  woman's  tail : 

For  if  I  thought  your  nat'ral  talent 

Of  passive  courage  were  so  gallant,  280 

As  you  strain  hard  to  have  it  thought, 

I  could  grow  amorous  and  dote. 

When  Hudibras  this  language  heard, 
He  prick'd  up  's  ears,  and  strok'd  his  beard ; 
Thought  he.  This  is  the  lucky  hour,  285 

Wines  work  when  vines  are  m  the  flow'r : 
This  crisis  then  I'll  set  my  rest  on, 
And  put  her  boldly  to  the  quest'on. 

Madam,  what  you  would  seem  to  doubt 
Shall  be  to  all  the  world  made  out ;  290 

How  I've  been  drubb'd,  and  with  what  spirit 
And  magnanimity  I  bear  it : 
And  if  you  doubt  it  to  be  true, 
I'll  stake  myself  down  against  you ; 
And  if  I  fail  in  love  or  truth,  996 

Be  you  the  wmner  and  take  both. 

Quoth  she,  I've  heard  old  cunning  stagers 
Say,  fools  for  arguments  use  wagers  ; 
And,  though  I  prais'd  your  valour,  yet 
I  did  not  mean  to  baulk  your  wit ;  300 

Wliich  if  you  have,  you  must  needs  know 
What  I  have  told  you  before  now, 
And  you  b'  experiment  have  prov'd; 
I  cannot  love  where  I'm  belov'd. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  'Tis  a  caprich  «05 

Beyond  th'  infliction  of  a  witch  ; 


PAKT    II.       CANTO    I.  155 

So  cheats  to  play  with  those  still  aim 

That  do  not  understand  the  game. 

Love  in  your  heart  as  idly  burns 

As  fire  in  antique  Roman  urns  310 

To  warm  the  dead,  and  vainly  light 

Those  only  that  see  nothing  by't. 

Have  you  not  power  to  entertain, 

And  render  love  for  love  again ; 

As  no  man  can  draw  in  his  breath  <5i5 

At  once,  and  force  out  air  beneath  ? 

Or  do  you  love  yourself  so  much, 

To  bear  all  rivals  else  a  grutch  ? 

What  fate  can  lay  a  greater  curse 

Than  you  upon  yourself  would  force  ?  320 

For  Wedlock  without  love,  some  say, 

Is  but  a  lock  without  a  key. 

It  is  a  kind  of  rape  to  marry 

One  that  neglects  or  cares  not  for  ye : 

For  what  does  make  it  ravishment  325 

But  b'ing  against  the  mind's  consent  ? 

A  rape  that  is  the  more  inhuman, 

For  being  acted  by  a  woman. 

Why  are  you  fair,  but  to  entice  us 

To  love  you,  that  you  may  despise  us  ?  330 

But  though  you  cannot  love,  you  say. 

Out  of  your  own  fanatic  way. 

Why  should  you  not  at  least  allow 

Those  that  love  you  to  do  so  too  ? 

V.  332.    Var.  '  Fanatique.'     Qy,  '  Fantastic?  ' 


156  HUDIBRAS. 

For,  as  you  fly  me,  and  pursue  335 

Love  more  averse,  so  I  do  you  ; 
And  am  by  your  own  doctrine  taught 
To  practise  what  you  call  a  fault. 

Quoth  she,  If  what  you  say  is  true, 
You  must  fly  me  as  I  do  you  ;  340 

But  'tis  not  what  we  do,  but  say, 
In  love  and  preaching,  that  must  sway. 

Quoth  he,  To  bid  me  not  to  love 
Is  to  forbid  my  pulse  to  move, 
My  beard  to  grow,  my  ears  to  prick  up,  340 

Or  (when  I'm  in  a  fit)  to  hiccup. 
Command  me  to  piss  out  the  moon, 
And  'twill  as  easily  be  done. 
Love's  pow'r  's  too  great  to  be  withstood 
By  feeble  human  flesh  and  blood.  350 

'Twas  he  that  brought  upon  his  knees 
The  hect'ring  kill-cow  Hercules, 
Transform'd  his  leager-lion's  skin 
T'  a  petticoat,  and  made  him  spin  ; 
Seiz'd  on  his  club,  and  made  it  dwindle  356 

T'  a  feeble  distaff  and  a  spindle  : 
'Twas  he  that  made  emp'rors  gallants 
To  their  own  sisters  and  their  aunts  ; 
Set  Popes  and  Cardinals  agog. 
To  play  with  pages  at  leap-frog :  360 

'Twas  he  that  gave  our  Senate  purges. 
And  fluxt  the  House  of  many  a  burgess ; 
Made  those  that  represent  the  nation 
Submit  and  suffer  amputation  ; 


PART    II.     CANTO    I.  157 

And  all  the  Grandees  o'  tli'  Cabal  365 

Adjourn  to  tubs  at  spring  and  faU. 
He  mounted  Synod-men  and  rode  'em 
To  Dirty-Lane  and  Little  Sodom ; 
Made  'em  curvet  like  Spanish  Jenets, 

And  take  the  ring  at  Madam 's.  370 

'Twas  he  that  made  Saint  Francis  do 

More  than  the  devil  could  tempt  him  to, 

In  cold  and  frosty  weather  grow 

Enamour'd  of  a  wife  of  snow ; 

And  though  she  were  of  rigid  temper,  376 

With  melting  flames  accost  and  tempt  her ; 

Which  after  in  enjoyment  quenching. 

He  hung  a  garland  on  liis  engine. 

Quoth  she,  If  love  have  these  effects, 
Why  is  it  not  forbid  our  sex  ?  380 

Why  is  't  not  damn'd  and  interdicted 
For  diabohcal  and  wicked  ? 
And  sung,  as  out  of  tune,  against, 
As  Turk  and  Pope  are  by  the  Saints  ? 
I  find  I've  greater  reason  for  it,  sss 

Than  I  believ'd  before,  t'  abhor  it. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  These  sad  effects 
Spring  from  your  heathenish  neglects 

V.  370.  "Stennet  -was  the  person  whose  name  -was 
dashed,"  says  Sir  Eoger  L'Estrange,  'Key  to  Hudibras.' 
"  Her  husband  was  by  profession  a  broom-man  and  lay-elder. 
She  followed  the  laudable  employment  of  bawding,  and  ma- 
naged several  intrigues  for  those  Brothers  and  Sisters  who5a 
purity  consisted  chiefly  in  the  whiteness  of  then-  Unen." 


158  HUDIBRAS. 

Of  Love's  great  pow'r,  which  he  returns 

Upon  yourselves  with  equal  scoras,  390 

And  those  who  worthy  lovers  slight, 

Plagues  with  prepost'rous  appetite : 

This  made  the  beauteous  Queen  of  Crete 

To  take  a  town-bull  for  her  sweet ; 

And  from  her  greatness  stoop  so  low,  395 

To  be  the  rival  of  a  cow  : 

Others  to  prostitute  their  great  hearts 

To  be  baboons'  and  monkeys'  sweethearts : 

Some  with  the  devil  himself  in  league  grow, 

By  's  representative  a  Negro.  400 

'Twas  this  made  Yestal  maid  love-sick. 

And  venture  to  be  bury'd  quick  : 

Some  by  their  fathers  and  their  brothers 

To  be  made  mistresses  and  mothers. 

'Tis  this  that  proudest  dames  enamours  405 

On  lacquies  and  valets  des  chambres  ; 

Their  haughty  stomachs  overcomes, 

And  makes  them  stoop  to  dirty  grooms ; 

To  slight  the  world,  and  to  disparage 

Claps,  issue,  infamy,  and  marriage.  4io 

Quoth  she,  These  judgments  are  severe, 
Yet  such  as  I  should  rather  bear 
Than  trust  men  with  their  oaths,  or  prove 
Their  faith  and  secrecy  in  love. 

Says  he.  There  is  as  weighty  reason  4i5 

For  secrecy  in  love  as  treason. 

V.  406.    Var.  '  Varlets  des  chambres.' 


PART   II.      CANTO   I.  159 

Love  is  a  burglarer,  a  felon, 

That  at  the  windore  eye  does  steal  in 

To  rob  the  heart,  and  with  his  prey 

Steals  out  again  a  closer  way,  «   420 

Which  whosoever  can  discover, 

He 's  sure  (as  he  deserves)  to  sufFei\ 

Love  is  a  fire,  that  burns  and  sparkli;s 

Li  men  as  nat'rally  as  in  charcoals, 

Wliich  sooty  chemists  stop  in  holes  435 

When  out  of  wood  they  extract  coals ; 

So  lovers  should  their  passions  choke, 

That  though  they  burn,  they  may  not  smoke. 

'Tis  like  that  sturdy  thief  that  stole 

And  dragg'd  beasts  backward  into  's  hole ;         430 

So  love  does  lovers,  and  us  men 

Draws  by  the  tails  into  his  den, 

That  no  impression  may  discover 

And  trace  t'  his  cave  the  wary  lover. 

But  if  you  doubt  I  should  reveal  43s 

What  you  intrust  me  under  seal, 

I'll  prove  myself  as  close  and  virtuous 

As  your  own  secretary'  Albertus. 

Quoth  she,  I  grant  you  may  be  close 
Li  hidmg  what  your  aims  propose  :  440 

Love-passions  are  like  parables. 
By  which  men  still  mean  something  else : 
Though  love  be  all  the  world's  pretence, 
Money  's  the  mythologic  sense, 

v.  418.    Var.  '  Window  eye.' 


160  HUDIBRA3. 

The  real  substance  of  the  shadow,  446 

Which  all  address  and  courtship  's  made  to. 

Thought  he,  I  understand  your  play, 
An(^  how  to  quit  you  your  own  way : 
He  that  will  win  his  dame  must  do 
As  love  does  when  he  bends  his  bow;  450 

With  one  hand  thrust  the  lady  from. 
And  with  the  other  pull  her  home. 
I  grant,  quoth  he,  wealth  is  a  great 
Provocative  to  am'rous  heat : 
It  is  all  philtres  and  high  diet  455 

That  makes  love  rampant  and  to  fly  out : 
'Tis  beauty  always  in  the  flower. 
That  buds  and  blossoms  at  fourscore :  - 
'Tis  that  by  which  the  sun  and  moon 
At  their  own  weapons  are  outdone  :  460 

That  makes  knights-errant  fall  in  trances. 
And  lay  about  'em  in  romances  : 
'Tis  virtue,  wit,  and  worth,  and  all 
That  men  divine  and  sacred  call ; 
For  what  is  worth  in  any  thing  465 

But  so  much  money  as  'twill  bring? 
Or  what  but  riches  is  there  known 
Which  man  can  solely  call  his  own. 
In  which  no  creature  goes  his  half. 
Unless  it  be  to  squint  and  laugh?  470 

I  do  confess,  with  goods  and  land, 
I'd  have  a  wife  at  second-hand  ; 
And  such  you  are :  nor  is  't  your  person 
My  stomach  's  set  so  sharp  and  fierce  on, 


PART   II.      CANTO    I.  161 

But  'tis  (your  better  part)  your  riches  47s 

That  my  enamour'd  heart  bewitches  : 

Let  me  your  fortune  but  possess, 

And  settle  your  person  liow  you  please ; 

Or  make  it  o'er  in  trust  to  th'  devil, 

You  '11  find  me  reasonable  and  civil.  4S0 

Quoth  she,  I  like  this  plainness  better 
Than  false  mock-passion,  speech,  or  letter, 
Or  any  feat  of  qualm  or  sowning, 
But  hanging  of  yourself  or  drowning ; 
Your  only  way  with  me  to  break  485 

Your  mind  is  breaking  of  your  neck : 
For  as  when  merchants  break,  o'ertlu'own 
Like  nine-pins,  they  strike  othei's  down. 
So  that  would  break  my  heart ;  which  done, 
My  tempting  fortune  is  your  own.  490 

These  are  but  trifles ;  ev'ry  lover 
"Will  damn  himself  over  and  over, 
And  greater  matters  undertake. 
For  a  less  worthy  mistress'  sake : 
Yet  they  're  the  only  ways  to  prove  495 

Th'  unfeign'd  realities  of  love  ; 
For  he  that  hangs,  or  beats  out  's  brains, 
The  devil 's  in  him  if  he  feigns. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  This  way  's  too  rough 
For  mere  experiment  and  proof;  soo 

It  is  no  jesting  trivial  matter 
To  swing  i'  th'  air,  or  dive  in  water, 

V.  483.    Var.  '  Swooning.' 


162  HUDIBRAS. 

And  like  a  water-witch  try  love ; 

That 's  to  destroy,  and  not  to  prove : 

As  if  a  man  should  be  dissected,  505 

To  find  what  part  is  disaffected ; 

Your  better  way  is  to  make  over, 

In  trust,  your  fortune  to  your  lover. 

Trust  is  a  trial ;  if  it  break, 

'Tis  not  so  desp'rate  as  a  neck :  sio 

Beside,  th'  experiment 's  more  certain ; 

Men  venture  necks  to  gain  a  fortune : 

The  soldier  does  it  ev'ry  day 

(Eight  to  the  week)  for  sixpence  pay ; 

Your  pettifoggers  damn  their  souls,  5  is 

To  share  with  knaves  in  cheating  fools ; 

And  merchants,  vent'ring  through  the  mam, 

Shght  pirates,  rocks,  and  horns,  for  gain. 

This  is  the  way  I  advise  you  to; 

Trust  me,  and  see  what  I  will  do.  620 

Quoth  she,  I  should  be  loth  to  run 
Myself  all  th'  hazard,  and  you  none ; 
Which  must  be  done,  unless  some  deed 
Of  yours  aforesaid  do  precede : 
Give  but  yourself  one  gentle  swing  sse 

For  trial,  and  I'll  cut  the  string ; 
Or  give  that  rev'rend  head  a  maul, 
Or  two  or  three,  against  a  wall. 
To  show  you  are  a  man  of  mettle, 
And  I'll  engage  myself  to  settle.  630 

Quoth  he.  My  head 's  not  made  of  brass, 
As  Friar  Bacon's  noddle  was, 


PART    II.       CANTO    I.  163 

Nor  (like  the  Indian's  scull)  so  tough 

That,  authors  say,  'twas  musket-proof; 

As  it  had  need  to  be,  to  enter  535 

As  yet  on  any  new  adventure. 

You  see  what  bangs  it  has  endur'd, 

That  would,  before  new  feats,  be  cur'd : 

But  if  that  's  all  you  stand  upon, 

Here  strike  me,  Luck,  it  shall  be  done.  540 

Quoth  she,  The  matter  's  not  so  far  gone 
As  you  suppose ;  two  words  t'  a  bargain : 
That  may  be  done,  and  time  enough, 
Wlien  you  have  given  downright  proof: 
And  yet  'tis  no  fantastic  pique  545 

I  have  to  love,  nor  coy  dislike ; 
'Tis  no  imphcit  nice  aversion 
T'  your  conversation,  mien,  or  person ; 
But  a  just  fear  lest  you  should  prove 
False  and  perfidious  in  love  :  6S0 

For,  if  I  thought  you  could  be  true, 
I  could  love  twice  as  much  as  you. 

Quoth  he.  My  faith  as  adamantin 
As  chains  of  Destiny  I'll  maintain ; 
True  as  Apollo  ever  spoke,  555 

Or  oracle  from  heart  of  oak: 
And  if  you  '11  give  my  flame  but  vent, 
Now  in  close  hugger-mugger  pent. 
And  shine  upon  me  but  benignly 
"With  that  one  and  that  other  pigsney,  sso 

The  sun  and  day  shall  sooner  part 
Than  love  or  you  shake  off  my  heart ; 


164  HUDIBRAS. 

The  sun,  that  shall  no  more  dispense 
His  own,  but  your  bright  influence, 
ru  carve  your  name  on  barks  of  trees  365 

With  true-love-knots  and  flourishes. 
That  shall  infuse  eternal  spring 
And  everlastmg  flourishing ; 
Drink  ev'ry  letter  on  't  in  stum, 
And  make  it  brisk  Champaign  become.  670 

Where'er  you  tread,  your  foot  shall  set 
The  primrose  and  the  violet ; 
All  spices,  perfumes,  and  sweet  powders, 
Shall  borrow  from  your  breath  their  odours ; 
Nature  her  charter  shall  renew,  575 

And  take  all  lives  of  things  from  you  ; 
The  world  depend  upon  your  eye, 
And,  when  you  frown  upon  it,  die : 
Only  our  loves  shall  still  survive, 
New  worlds  and  Natures  to  outhve,  580 

And  like  to  heralds'  moons  remain 
All  crescents,  without  change  or  wane. 
Hold,  hold,  quoth  she,  no  more  of  this ; 

Sir  Knight,  you  take  your  aim  amiss ; 

For  you  will  find  it  a  hard  chapter  68s 

To  catch  me  with  poetic  rapture. 

In  wliich  your  Mastery  of  Art 

Doth  shew  itself,  and  not  your  heart ; 

Nor  will  you  raise  in  mine  combustion 

By  dint  of  liigh  heroic  fustian.  690 

She  that  with  poetry  is  won 

Is  but  a  desk  to  write  upon ; 


PAKT    11.       CANTO    I. 


165 


And  what  men  say  of  her  they  mean 

No  mox'e  than  on  the  thing  they  lean. 

Some  with  Arabian  spices  strive  695 

T'  embalm  her  cruelly  alive  ; 

Or  season  her,  as  French  cooks  use 

Their  haut-gousts,  bouilles,  or  ragousts  ; 

Use  her  so  barbarously  ill 

To  grind  her  lips  upon  a  mill,  600 

Until  the  facet  doublet  doth 

Fit  their  rhymes  rather  than  her  mouth  ; 

Her  mouth,  compar'd  t'  an  oyster's,  with 

A  row  of  pearl  in  't  'stead  of  teeth. 

Others  make  posies  of  her  cheeks,  608 

Where  red  and  whitest  colours  mix ; 

In  which  the  lily  and  the  rose 

For  Indian  lake  and  ceruse  goes. 

The  sun  and  moon,  by  her  bright  eyes 

Eclips'd  and  darken'd  in  the  skies,  6io 

Are  but  black  patches  that  she  wears. 

Cut  into  suns,  and  moons,  and  stars  ; 

By  which  astrologers,  as  well 

As  those  in  heav'n  above,  can  tell 

What  strange  events  they  do  foreshow  615 

Unto  her  under-world  below. 

Her  voice  the  music  of  the  spheres, 

So  loud  it  deafens  mortals'  ears, 

As  wise  philosophers  have  thought. 

And  that 's  the  cause  we  hear  it  not.  620 

This  has  been  done  by  some,  who  those 

Th'  ador'd  in  rhyme  would  kick  in  prose ; 


166  HUDIBRAS. 

And  in  those  ribands  would  have  hung 

Of  which  melodiously  they  sung. 

That  have  the  hard  fate  to  write  best  625 

Of  those  still  that  deserve  it  least : 

It  matters  not  how  false  or  forc'd, 

So  the  best  things  be  said  o'  th'  worst ; 

It  goes  for  nothing  when  'tis  said, 

Only  the  arrow  's  drawn  to  th'  head,  630 

Whether  it  be  a  swan  or  goose 

They  level  at :  so  shepherds  use 

To  set  the  same  mark  on  the  hip 

Both  of  their  sound  and  rotten  sheep : 

For  wits  that  carry  low  or  wide  63» 

Must  be  aim'd  higher,  or  beside 

The  mark,  which  else  they  ne'er  come  nigh 

But  when  they  take  their  aim  awry. 

But  I  do  wonder  you  should  choose 

This  way  t'  attack  me  with  your  Muse,  640 

As  one  cut  out  to  pass  your  tricks  on, 

With  Fulhams  of  poetic  fiction. 

I  rather  hop'd  I  should  no  more 

Hear  from  you  o'  th'  gallanting  score ; 

For  hard  dry  bastings  us'd  to  prove  646 

The  readiest  remedies  of  love 

Next  a  dry  diet :  but  if  those  fail. 

Yet  this  uneasy  loop-hol'd  jail, 

In  which  y'  are  hamper'd  by  the  fetlock, 

Cannot  but  put  y'  in  miud  of  wedlock  ;  aso 

V.  642.    A  cant  word  for  false  dice. 


PART   II.      CANTO    I.  167 

Wedlock,  tliat  's  worse  than  any  hole  here, 

If  that  may  serve  you  for  a  cooler 

T'  allay  your  mettle,  all  agog 

Upon  a  wife,  the  heavier  clog : 

Nor  rather  thank  your  gentler  fate,  666 

That  for  a  bruis'd  or  broken  pate 

Has  freed  you  from  those  knobs  that  grow 

Much  harder  on  the  marry'd  brow. 

But  if  no  dread  can  cool  your  courage 

From  vent'ring  on  that  dragon,  marriage ;         660 

Yet  give  me  quarter,  and  advance 

To  nobler  aims  your  puissance ; 

Level  at  beauty  and  at  wit. 

The  fairest  mark  is  easiest  hit. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  I'm  beforehand  666 

In  that  already  with  your  command ; 
For  where  does  beauty  and  high  wit 
But  in  your  Constellation  meet  ? 

Quoth  she,  Wliat  does  a  match  imply 
But  likeness  and  equality  ?  670 

I  know  you  cannot  think  me  fit 
To  be  th'  yokefellow  of  your  wit; 
Nor  take  one  of  so  mean  deserts 
To  be  the  partner  of  your  parts  ; 
A  grace  which,  if  I  could  believe,  675 

I've  not  the  conscience  to  receive. 

That  conscience,  quoth  Hudibras, 
Is  misinform'd  :  I'll  state  the  case. 
A  man  may  be  a  legal  doner 
Of  any  thing  whereof  he  's  owner,  630 


J  CS  nUDIBRAS. 

And  may  confer  it  where  he  lists, 

I'  th'  judgment  of  all  casuists  : 

Then  wit,  and  parts,  and  valour,  may 

Be  ali'nated  and  made  away 

By  those  that  are  proprietors,  68ft 

As  I  may  give  or  sell  my  horse. 

Quoth  she,  I  grant  the  case  is  true 
And  proper  'twixt  your  horse  and  you  : 
But  whether  I  may  take,  as  well 
As  you  may  give  away  or  sell?  690 

Buyers,  you  know,  are  bid  beware ; 
And  worse  than  thieves  receivers  are. 
How  shaU  I  answer  Hue  and  Cry 
For  a  Roan-gelding,  twelve  hands  high, 
AU  spurr'd  and  switch'd,  a  lock  on  's  hoof,         695 
A  sorrel  mane  ?     Can  I  bring  proof 
"Where,  when,  by  whom,  and  what  y'  were  sold  for. 
And  in  the  open  market  told  for  ? 
Or,  should  I  take  you  for  a  stray, 
You  must  be  kept  a  year  and  day  700 

(Ere  I  can  own  you)  here  i'  th'  pound, 
Where,  if  y'  are  sought,  you  may  be  found ; 
And  in  the  mean  time  I  must  pay 
For  all  your  provender  and  hay. 

Quoth  he,  It  stands  me  much  upon  706 

T'  enervate  this  objection. 
And  prove  myself,  by  topic  clear, 
No  gelding,  as  you  would  infer. 
Loss  of  virility  's  averr'd 
To  be  the  cause  of  loss  of  beard,  7io 


PART   11.      CANTO   I.  169 

That  does  (like  embryo  in  the  womb) 

Abortive  on  the  chin  become : 

This  first  a  woman  did  invent 

In  envy  of  man's  ornament, 

Semiramis  of  Babylon,  7i& 

Who  first  of  all  cut  men  o'  th'  stone 

To  mar  their  beards,  and  laid  foundation 

Of  sow-geldering  operation. 

Look  on  this  beard,  and  tell  me  whether 

Eunuchs  wear  such,  or  geldings  either  ?  720 

Next  it  appeal's  I  am  no  horse. 

That  I  can  ai'gue  and  discourse. 

Have  but  two  legs,  and  ne'er  a  tail. 

Quoth  she,  That  nothing  will  avail ; 
For  some  pliilosophers  of  late  here  796 

Write  men  have  four  legs  by  Nature, 
And  that  'tis  custom  makes  them  go 
Erroneously  upon  but  two ; 
As  'twas  in  Germany  made  good  ^ 

B'  a  boy  that  lost  himself  in  a  wood,  730 

And  growing  down  t'  a  man,  was  wont 
With  wolves  upon  all  four  to  hunt. 
As  for  your  reasons  drawn  from  tails, 
We  cannot  say  they're  true  or  false. 
Till  you  explain  yourself  and  show  736 

B'  experiment  'tis  so  or  no. 

Quoth  he,  If  you'll  join  issue  on't, 
I'll  give  you  sat'sfact'ry  account ; 
So  you  will  promise,  if  you  lose, 
To  settle  all  and  be  my  spouse.  740 

VOL.  I.  15 


170  HUDIBKAS. 

TJiat  never  shall  be  done  (quoth  she) 
To  one  that  wants  a  tail,  hj  me  ; 
For  tails  by  Nature  sure  were  meant, 
As  well  as  beards,  for  ornament ; 
And  though  the  vulgar  count  them  homely,       743 
In  men  or  beast  they  are  so  comely, 
So  gentee,  alamode,  and  handsome, 
I'll  never  marry  man  that  wants  one  : 
And  till  you  can  demonstrate  plain 
You  have  one  equal  to  your  mane,  750 

I'll  be  torn  piecemeal  by  a  horse 
Ere  I'll  take  you  for  better  or  worse. 
The  Prince  of  Cambay's  daily  food 
Is  asp,  and  basilisk,  and  toad, 
Which  makes  him  have  so  strong  a  breath         755 
Each  night  he  stinks  a  queen  to  death ; 
Yet  I  shall  rather  lie  in  's  arms 
Than  yours  on  any  other  terms. 

Quoth  he,  "What  Nature  can  afford 
I  shall  produce,  upon  my  word ;  760 

And  if  she  ever  gave  that  boon 
To  man,  I'll  prove  that  I  have  one  ; 
I  mean  by  postulate  illation. 
When  you  shall  offer  just  occasion : 
But  since  y'  have  yet  deny'd  to  give  -«6 

My  heart,  your  pris'ner,  a  reprieve, 
But  made  it  sink  down  to  my  heel, 
Let  that  at  least  your  pity  feel ; 
And,  for  the  suff 'rings  of  your  martyr, 
Give  its  poor  entertainer  quarter ;  770 


PART   II.      CANTO   I.  171 

And,  by  discharge  or  mainprize,  grant 
Deliv'ry  from  this  base  restraint. 

Quoth  she,  I  grieve  to  see  your  leg 
Stuck  in  a  hole  here  like  a  peg ; 
And  if  I  knew  which  way  to  do't  776 

(Your  honour  safe)  I'd  let  you  out. 
That  dames  by  jail-delivery 
Of  errant  knights  have  been  set  free, 
When  by  enchantment  they  have  been, 
And  sometimes  for  it  too,  laid  in ;  780 

Is  that  wliich  knights  are  bound  to  do 
By  order,  oath,  and  honour  too. 
For  what  are  they  renown'd  and  famous  else, 
But  aiding  of  distressed  damosels  ? 
But  for  a  lady,  no  ways  err'ant,  785 

To  free  a  kniglit,  we  have  no  warrant 
In  any  authentical  romance. 
Or  classic  author  yet  of  Finance  ; 
And  I'd  be  loth  to  have  you  break 
An  ancient  custom  for  a  freak,  790 

Or  innovation  introduce 
In  place  of  things  of  antique  use, 
To  free  your  heels  by  any  course 
That  might  b'  unwholesome  to  your  spurs : 
Wliich,  if  I  should  consent  unto,  796 

It  is  not  in  my  pow'r  to  do  ; 
For  'tis  a  service  must  be  done  ye 
With  solemn  previous  ceremony. 
Which  always  has  been  us'd  t'  untie 
The  charms  of  those  who  here  do  lie.  *• 


172  HUDIBRAS. 

For  as  the  Ancients  heretofore 

To  Honour's  temple  had  no  dore 

But  that  which  thorough  Virtue's  lay, 

So  from  this  dungeon  there's  no  way 

To  honour'd  freedom,  but  by  passing  sos 

That  other  virtuous  school  of  lashing  ; 

Where  knights  are  kept  in  narrow  lists 

With  wooden  lockets  'bout  their  wrists, 

In  which  they  for  a  while  are  tenants. 

And  for  their  ladies  suffer  penance.  sio 

Whipping,  that  's  Virtue's. governess, 

Tut'ress  of  arts  and  sciences. 

That  mends  the  gross  mistakes  of  Nature, 

And  puts  new  life  into  dull  matter, 

That  lays  foundation  for  renown  sis 

And  all  the  honours  of  the  gown.  • 

Tliis  sufFer'd,  they  are  set  at  large. 

And  freed  with  hon'rable  discharge  : 

Then,  in  their  robes,  the  penitentials 

Are  straight  presented  with  credentials,  820 

And  in  their  way  attended  on 

By  magistrates  of  ev'ry  town  ; 

And,  all  respect  and  charges  paid. 

They  're  to  their  ancient  seats  convey'd. 

Now  if  you  '11  venture,  for  my  sake,  6S5 

To  try  the  toughness  of  your  back, 

And  suffer  (as  the  rest  have  done) 

The  laying  of  a  whipping  on 

(And  may  you  prosper  in  your  suit. 

As  you  with  equal  vigour  do't).  ~  830 


PART   II.      CANTO   I.  173 

1  here  engage  myself  to  loose  ye, 

And  free  your  heels  from  caperdewsie. 

But  smee  our  sex's  modesty 

Will  not  allow  I  should  be  by, 

Brmg  me  on  oath  a  fair  account,  &35 

And  honour  too,  when  you  have  done  't ; 

And  I'll  admit  you  to  the  place 

You  claim  as  due  in  my  good  grace. 

If  matiimony  and  hanging  go 

By  dest'ny,  why  not  whipping  too  ?  840 

Wliat  med'cine  else  can  cure  the  fits 

Of  lovers  when  they  lose  their  wits  ? 

Love  is  a  boy  by  poets  styl'd. 

Then  spare  the  rod,  and  spoil  the  child. 

A  Persian  emp'ror  whipp'd  his  grannam,       845 
The  sea,  his  mother  Venus  came  on  ; 
And  hence  some  rev'rend  men  approve 
Of  rosemary  in  making  love. 
As  skilful  coopers  hoop  their  tubs 
"With  Lydian  and  with  Phrygian  dubs,  sso 

Why  may  not  whippmg  have  as  good 
A  grace,  perform'd  m  time  and  mood. 
With  comely  movement,  and  by  art 
Raise  passion  in  a  lady's  heart? 
It  is  an  easier  way  to  make  Sas 

Love  by,  than  that  which  many  take. 
Who  would  not  rather  suffer  whippin, 


V.  831.    Var.  '  I  here  engage  to  be  your  bayl, 

And  free  you  from  the  unknightly  jayL' 


1,74  HUDIBRAS. 

Than  swallow  toasts  of  bits  of  ribbin  ? 

Make  wicked  verses,  treats,  and  faces, 

And  spell  names  over  with  beer-glasses  ?  860 

Be  under  vows  to  hang  and  die 

Love's  sacrifice,  and  all  a  lye  ? 

With  china-oranges  and  tarts. 

And  whining  plays,  lay  baits  for  hearts  ? 

Bribe  chambermaids  with  love  and  money         866 

To  break  no  roguish  jests  upon  ye  ? 

For  Hlies  hmn'd  on  cheeks,  and  roses, 

With  painted  perfumes  hazard  noses  ? 

Or,  vent'ring  to  be  brisk  and  wanton, 

Do  penance  in  a  paper  lantern  ?  870 

All  this  you  may  compound  for  now, 

By  suff 'rmg  what  I  offer  you  ; 

Which  is  no  more  than  has  been  done 

By  knights  for  ladies  long  agone. 

Did  not  the  great  La  Mancha  do  so  875 

For  the  Infanta  Del  Toboso  ? 

Did  not  th'  illustrious  Bassa  make 

Himself  a  slave  for  Misse's  sake. 

And  with  bull's  pizzle,  for  her  love. 

Was  taw'd  as  gentle  as  a  glove  ?  sso 

Was  not  young  Florio  sent  (to  cool 

His  flame  for  Biancafiore)  to  school, 

WTiere  pedant  made  his  pathic  bum 

For  her  sake  suffer  martyrdom  ? 

Did  not  a  certain  lady  whip,  885 

Of  late,  her  husband's  own  lordship  ? 

And,  though  a  grandee  of  the  House, 


PART   II.     CANTO   I.  1 ''5 

Claw'd  him  with  fundamental  blows  ; 

Ty'd  him  stark-naked  to  a  bedpost, 

And  fii'k'd  his  hide  as  if  sh'  had  rid  post ;  890 

And  after  in  the  Sessions  court, 

Where  whipping  's  judg'd,  had  honour  for  't  ? 

This  swear  you  will  perform,  and  then 

I'll  set  you  from  th'  enchanted  den, 

And  the  Magician's  circle,  clear,  8P5 

Quoth  he,  I  do  pi'ofess  and  swear, 
And  will  perform  what  you  enjoin, 
Or  may  I  never  see  you  mine. 

Amen  (quoth  she),  then  turn'd  about, 
And  bid  her  Squire  let  him  out.  900 

But  ere  an  artist  could  be  found 
T'  undo  the  charms  another  bound. 
The  sun  grew  low  and  left  the  skies. 
Put  down  (some  write)  by  ladies'  eyes. 
The  moon  puU'd  off  her  veil  of  light,  905 

That  hides  her  face  by  day  from  sight 
(Mysterious  veil,  of  brightness  made. 
That  's  both  her  lustre  and  her  shade), 
And  in  the  lantern  of  the  night 
With  shining  horns  hung  out  her  light ;  9io 

For  darkness  is  the  proper  sphere 
Where  all  false  glories  use  t'  appear. 
The  twinkling  stars  began  to  muster, 
And  glitter  with  their  borrow'd  lustre, 
While  sleep  the  weary'd  world  reUev'd,  915 

v.  894.    Var.  '  I'U  free  you.' 


176  HDDIBRAS. 

By  counterfeiting  death  reviv'd. 
His  whipping  penance,  till  the  morn 
Our  vot'ry  thought  it  best  t'  adjourn, 
And  not  to  carry  on  a  work 
Of  such  importance  hi  the  dark, 
With  errmg  haste,  but  rather  stay. 
And  do  't  in  th'  open  face  of  day ; 
And  in  the  mean  time  go  in  quest 
Of  next  retreat  to  take  his  rest. 


930 


PART   II.       CANTO    II.  177 


PART   II.      CANTO    II. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

The  luiight  and  Squire  in  hot  dispute, 
Within  an  ace  of  falling  out, 
Are  parted  with  a  sudden  fright 
Of  strange  alarm,  and  stranger  sight ; 
With  which  adventuring  to  stickle. 
They  're  sent  away  in  nasty  pickle. 

'Tis  strange  how  some  men's  tempers  suit 

(Like  bawd  and  brandy)  with  dispute ; 

That  for  their  own  opinions  stand  fast, 

Only  to  have  them  claw'd  and  canvast ; 

That  keep  their  consciences  in  cases,  & 

As  fiddlers  do  their  crowds  and  bases, 

Ne'er  to  be  us'd  but  when  they  're  bent 

To  play  a  fit  for  argument ; 

Make  true  and  false,  unjust  and  just, 

Of  no  use  but  to  be  discust ;  lO 

Dispute,  and  set  a  paradox 

Like  a  straight  boot  upon  the  stocks. 

And  stretch  it  more  unmercifully 

Than  Hehnont,  Montaigne,  White,  or  Tully. 

So  th'  ancient  Stoics,  in  their  porch,  a 

V.  2.    Var.  '  Brandee.' 

V.  14.    Var.  '  Montaign  and  Lully.' 


178  HUDIBRAS. 

With  fierce  dispute  maintain'd  their  church, 

Beat  out  their  brains  in  fight  and  study 

To  prove  that  virtue  is  a  body, 

That  honuni  is  an  animal 

Made  good  with  stout  polemic  brawl ;  20 

In  which  some  hundreds  on  the  place 

Were  slain  outright,  and  many  a  face 

Retrench'd  of  nose,  and  eyes,  and  beard. 

To  maintain  what  their  sect  averr'd. 

All  which  the  Knight  and  Squire,  in  wrath,        26 

Had  hke  t'  have  suffer'd  for  their  faith  ; 

Each  striving  to  make  good  his  own, 

As  by  the  sequel  shall  be  shown. 

The  sun  had  long  since  in  the  lap 
Of  Thetis  taken  out  his  nap,  80 

And,  hke  a  lobster  boil'd,  the  morn 
From  black  to  red  began  to  turn ; 
When  Hudibras,  whom  thoughts  and  aking 
'Twixt  sleeping  kept  all  night  and  waking. 
Began  to  rub  his  drowsy  eyes,  se 

And  from  his  couch  prepar'd  to  rise. 
Resolving  to  dispatch  the  deed 
He  vow'd  to  do,  with  trusty  speed. 
But  first  with  knocking  loud,  and  bawling. 
He  rous'd  the  Squire  in  truckle  lolling  ;  40 

And  after  many  circumstances, 
WTiich  vulgar  authors  in  romances 
Do  use  to  spend  their  time  and  wits  on, 
To  make  impertinent  description, 
They  got  (with  much  ado)  to  horse,  45 


PART   II.      CANTO    II.  179 

And  to  the  Castle  bent  their  course, 

In  Avhich  he  to  the  Dame  before 

To  suffer  whipping-duty  swore. 

Wliere  now  arriv'd,  and  half  unharnest, 

To  carry  on  the  work  in  earnest,  50 

Pie  stopp'd,  and  paus'd  upon  the  sudden. 

And  with  a  serious  forehead  plodding, 

Sprung  a  new  scruple  in  his  head. 

Which  fii'st  he  scratch'd  and  after  said, 

Whether  it  be  direct  infringing  55 

An  oath,  if  I  should  wave  this  swinging. 

And  what  I've  sworn  to  bear  forbear, 

And  so  b'  equivocation  swear  ; 

Or  whether  't  be  a  lesser  sin 

To  be  forsworn  than  act  the  thing,  60 

Are  deep  and  subtle  points,  which  must, 

T'  inform  my  Conscience,  be  discust ; 


V.  48.    Var.  '  Whipping  duly  swore.' 

V.  55,  56.  This  dialogue  between  Hudibras  and  Ralph  sets 
before  us  the  hypocrisy  and  villany  of  all  parties  of  the  Rebels 
■with  regard  to  oaths ;  what  equivocations  and  evasions  they 
made  use  of  to  account  for  the  many  perjuries  they  were  dai-. 
ly  guilty  of,  and  the  several  oaths  they  readily  took,  and  as 
readily  broke,  merely  as  they  found  it  suited  their  interest,  as 
appears  from  v.  107,  &c.  and  v.  377,  &c.  of  this  Canto,  and 
Part  III.  Canto  in.  v.  547,  &c.  Archbishop  Bramhall  says, 
"  That  the  hypocrites  of  those  times,  though  they  magnified 
the  obligation  of  an  oath,  yet  in  their  own  case  dispensed  with 
all  oaths,  civil,  military,  and  religious.  We  are  now  told," 
says  he,  "  that  the  oaths  we  have  taken  are  not  to  be  exam- 
ined according  to  the  interpretation  of  men :  No !  How  then  ? 
—  Surely  accordmg  to  the  interpretation  of  devils." 


180  HUDIBRAS. 

In  wliich  to  err  a  tittle  may 

To  errors  infinite  make  way : 

And  therefore  I  desire  to  know  «s 

Thy  judgment  ere  we  further  go. 

Quoth  Ralpho,  Since  you  do  enjoin  it, 
I  shall  enlarge  upon  the  point ; 
And,  for  my  own  part,  do  not  doubt 
Th'  affirmative  may  be  made  out.  70 

But  first,  to  state  the  case  aright, 
For  best  advantage  of  our  light : 
And  thus  'tis :  Whether  't  be  a  sin 
To  claw  and  curry  your  own  skin, 
Greater  or  less  than  to  forbear,  75 

And  that  you  are  forsworn  forswear. 
But  first  o'  th'  first :  The  inward  man, 
And  outward,  like  a  clan  and  clan, 
Have  always  been  at  daggers-di'awing, 
And  one  another  clapper-clawing :  so 

Not  that  they  really  cuff  or  fence, 
But  in  a  spiritual  mystic  sense ; 
Which  to  mistake,  and  make  'em  squabble 
In  literal  fray,  's  abominable. 
'Tis  Heathenish,  in  frequent  use  ss 

With  Pagans  and  apostate  Jews, 
To  offer  sacrifice  of  Bridewells, 
Like  modern  Indians  to  their  idols ; 
And  mongrel  Christians  of  our  times. 
That  expiate  less  with  greater  crimes,  no 

And  call  the  foul  abomination 
Contrition  and  mortification. 


PART   II.      CANTO    II.  181 

Is't  not  enough  we're  bruis'd  and  kicked 

"With  sinful  members  of  the  Wicked ; 

Our  vessels,  that  are  sanctify'd,  95 

Profan'd  and  curry'd  back  and  side ; 

But  we  must  claw  ourselves  with  shameful 

And  Heathen  stripes,  by  their  example  ? 

Which  (were  there  nothing  to  forbid  it) 

Is  impious,  because  tliey  did  it.  100 

This,  therefore,  may  be  justly  reckon'd 

A  heinous  sin.     Now  to  the  second : 

That  saints  may  claim  a  dispensation 

To  swear  and  forswear  on  occasion, 

I  doubt  not  but  it  will  appear  105 

With  pregnant  light ;  the  point  is  clear. 

Oaths  are  but  words,  and  words  but  wind ; 

Too  feeble  implements  to  bind  ; 

And  hold  with  deeds  proportion,  so 

As  shadows  to  a  substance  do.  no 

Then  when  they  strive  for  place,  'tis  fit 

The  weaker  vessel  shoidd  submit. 

Although  your  Church  be  opposite 

To  ours  as  Blackfriars  are  to  White, 

In  rule  and  order,  yet  I  grant  us 

You  are  a  Reformado  saint ; 

And  what  the  saints  do  claim  as  due, 

You  may  pretend  a  title  to. 

But  Saints,  whom  oaths  and  vows  oblige, 

Know  little  of  their  privilege  ;  120 

Further  (I  mean)  than  carrying  on 

Some  self-advantage  of  their  own. 


182  HUDIBRAS. 

For  if  the  devil,  to  serve  Iiis  turn, 

Can  tell  truth,  why  the  saints  should  scorn, 

When  it  serves  theirs,  to  swear  and  lie,  125 

I  think  there's  little  reason  why : 

Else  he  'as  a  greater  power  than  they 

Which  'twere  impiety  to  say. 

We're  not  commanded  to  forbear, 

Indefinitely,  at  all  to  swear ;  130 

But  to  swear  idly,  and  in  vain, 

Without  self-interest  or  gain. 

For  breaking  of  an  oath,  and  lying. 

Is  but  a  kind  of  self-denying, 

A  saint-like  virtue ;  and  from  hence  135 

Some  have  broke  oaths  by  Providence : 

Some,  to  the  Glory  of  the  Lord, 

Perjur'd  themselves,  and  broke  their  word  ; 

And  this  the  constant  rule  and  practice 

Of  all  our  late  apostles'  acts  is.  i4o 

Was  not  the  cause  at  first  begun 

With  perjury,  and  carried  on  ? 

V.  136.  When  it  was  first  moved  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons to  proceed  capitally  against  the  King,  Cromwell  stood 
up  and  told  them,  "  That  if  any  man  moved  this  with  design, 
he  should  think  him  the  greatest  traitor  in  the  world ;  but 
sLace  Providence  and  necessity  had  cast  them  upon  it,  he 
should  pray  to  God  to  bless  their  counsels."  And  when  he 
kept  the  Kin'';  close  prisoner  in  Carisbrook  Castle,  contrary 
to  vows  and  protestations,  he  affinned  "  The  Spu-it  would  nol, 
let  him  keep  his  word."  And  when,  contrary  to  the  public 
faith,  they  murdered  him,  they  pretended  they  could  not 
resist  the  motions  of  the  Spirit. 


PART    II.       CANTO    II.  183 

Was  there  an  oath  the  Godly  took, 

But  in  due  time  and  place  they  broke  ? 

Did  we  not  bring  our  oaths  in  first,  ub 

Before  our  plate,  to  have  them  burst, 

And  cast  in  fitter  models  for 

The  present  use  of  Church  and  "War? 

Did  not  our  Worthies  of  the  House, 

Before  they  broke  the  peace,  break  vows  ?         jao 

For,  having  freed  us  first  from  both 

Th'  Allegiance  and  Suprem'cy  oath. 

Did  they  not  next  compel  the  nation 

To  take,  and  break  the  Protestation  ? 

To  swear,  and  after  to  recant,  155 

The  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  ? 

To  take  th'  Engagement,  and  disclaim  it  ; 

Enforc'd  by  those  who  first  did  frame  it  ? 

Did  they  not  swear,  at  first,  to  fight 

For  the  King's  safety,  and  his  right ;  leo 

And  after  march'd  to  find  him  out, 

And  charg'd  him  home  with  horse  and  foot ; 

But  yet  still  had  the  confidence 

To  swear  it  was  in  his  defence  ? 

Did  they  not  swear  to  live  and  die  ,         166 

With  Essex,  and  straight  laid  him  by  ? 

If  that  were  all,  for  some  have  swore 

As  false  as  they,  if  they  did  no  more. 

Did  they  not  swear  to  maintain  Law, 

In  which  that  swearing  made  a  flaw  ?  170 

For  Protestant  religion  vow. 

That  did  that  vowing  disallow  ? 


184  HUDIBRAS. 

For  Privilege  of  Parliament, 

In  which  that  swearing  made  a  rent  ? 

And  since,  of  all  the  three,  not  one  175 

Is  left  in  being,  'tis  well  known. 

Did  they  not  swear,  in  express  words. 

To  projj  and  back  the  House  of  Lc-rds  ; 

And  after  turn'd  out  the  whole  houseful 

Of  Peers,  as  dang'rous  and  unuseful  ?  iso 

So  Cromwell,  with  deep  oaths  and  vows. 

Swore  all  the  Commons  out  o'  th'  House  ; 

Vow'd  that  the  Redcoats  would  disband. 

Ay,  marry  would  they,  at  their  command  ; 

And  troll'd  them  on,  and  swore,  and  swore,        iss 

Till  th'  Army  turn'd  them  out  of  door. 

This  tells  us  plainly  what  they  thought. 

That  oaths  and  swearing  go  for  nought. 

And  that  by  them  th'  were  only  meant 

To  serve  for  an  expedient.  i90 

What  was  the  Public  Faith  found  out  for. 

But  to  slur  men  of  what  they  fought  for  ? 

The  Public  Faith,  which  ev'ry  one 

Is  bound  t'  observe,  yet  kept  by  none ; 

And  if  that  go  for  nothing,  why  195 

Should  Private  Faith  have  such  a  tie  ? 

Oaths  were  not  purpos'd,  more  than  law, 

To  keep  the  Good  and  Just  in  awe. 

But  to  confine  the  Bad  and  Sinful, 

Like  mortal  cattle  in  a  pinfold.  200 

A  Saint 's  of  th'  heav'nly  realm  a  Peer ; 

And  as  no  Peer  is  bound  to  swear, 


PART  II.      CANTO    II.  185 

But  on  the  Gospel  of  his  Honour, 

Of  which  he  may  dispose,  as  owner, 

It  follows,  though  the  thing  be  forg'ry  aos 

And  false,  t'  affirm  it  is  no  perj'ry, 

But  a  mere  ceremony,  and  a  breach 

Of  nothing  but  a  form  of  speech, 

And  goes  for  no  more  when  'tis  took     n 

Than  mere  saluting  of  the  Book.  210 

Suppose  the  Scriptures  are  of  force, 

They're  but  commissions  of  course  ; 

And  Saints  have  freedom  to  digress, 

And  vary  from  'em,  as  they  please ; 

Or  misinterpret  them  by  private  316 

Instructions,  to  all  aims  they  drive  at. 

Then  why  should  we  ourselves  abridge, 

And  cuitail  our  own  privilege  ? 

Quakers  (that,  like  to  lanterns,  bear 

Their  light  within  'em)  will  not  swear ;  220 

Their  Gospel  is  an  Accidence, 

By  wliich  they  construe  Conscience, 

And  hold  no  sin  so  deeply  red, 

As  that  of  breaking  Priscian's  head 

(The  head  and  founder  of  their  order,  225 

That  stirring  hats  held  worse  than  murder). 

These,  thinkmg  they're  obliged  to  troth 

In  swearing,  will  not  take  an  oath : 

Like  mules,  who  if  they've  not  their  will 

To  keep  their  own  pace  stand  stock  still :  230 

But  they  are  weak,  and  little  know 

What  free-born  Consciences  may  do. 

VOL.  I.  16 


186  HUDIBRAS. 

'Tis  the  temptation  of  the  devil 

That  makes  all  human  actions  evil : 

For  Saints  may  do  the  same  things  by  23a 

The  Spirit,  in  sincerity, 

Which  other  men  are  tempted  to. 

And  at  the  devil's  instance  do ; 

And  yet  the  actions  be  contrary, 

Just  as  the  Saints  and  Wicked  vary.  240 

For,  as  on  land  there  is  no  beast 

But  in  some  fish  at  sea  's  exprest. 

So  in  the  Wicked  there's  no  vice 

Of  which  the  Saints  have  not  a  spice ; 

And  yet  that  thing  that's  pious  in  248 

The  one,  in  th'  other  is  a  sin. 

Is't  not  ridiculous  and  nonsense 

A  saint  should  be  a  slave  to  Conscience  ; 

That  ought  to  be  above  such  fancies, 

As  far  as  above  Ordinances  ?  250 

She's  of  the  wicked,  as  I  guess 

B'  her  looks,  her  language,  and  her  dress : 

And  though  like  constables  we  search 

For  false  wares  one  another's  Church ; 

Yet  all  of  us  hold  this  for  true,  255 

No  faith  is  to  the  Wicked  due. 

For  truth  is  precious  and  divine ; 

Too  rich  a  pearl  for  carnal  swine. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  All  this  is  true : 
Yet  'tis  not  fit  that  all  men  knew  260 

Those  mysteries  and  revelations ; 
And  therefore  topical  evasions 


PART   II.      CANTO    II.  187 

Of  subtle  turns  and  shifts  of  sense, 

Serve  best  with  th'  Wicked  for  pretence : 

Such  as  the  learned  Jesuits  use,  265 

And  Presbyterians,  for  excuse 

Against  the  Protestants,  when  th'  happen 

To  find  their  Churches  taken  napping. 

As  thus :  A  breach  of  Oath  is  duple. 

And  either  way  admits  a  scruple,  270 

And  may  be  ex  parte  of  the  maker 

More  criminal,  than  the  injur'd  taker ; 

For  he  that  strains  too  far  a  vow 

"Will  break  it,  Hke  an  o'erbent  bow : 

And  he  that  made,  and  forc'd  it,  broke  it ;  275 

Not  he  that  for  Convenience  took  it. 

A  broken  oath  is,  quatenus  oath. 

As  sound  t'  all  purposes  of  troth ; 

As  broken  laws  are  ne'er  the  worse . 

Nay,  till  they're  broken  have  no  force.  28O 

Wliat's  justice  to  a  man,  or  laws. 

That  never  comes  within  their  claws  ? 

They  have  no  pow'r  but  to  admonish ; 

Cannot  control,  coerce,  or  punish. 

Until  they're  broken,  and  then  touch  28s 

Those  only  that  do  make  'em  such. 

Beside,  no  engagement  is  allow'd 

By  men  in  prison  made  for  good ; 

For  when  they're  set  at  liberty 

They're  from  th'  engagement  too  set  free.  290 

The  Rabbins  write.  When  any  Jew 

Did  make  to  God  or  man  a  vow 


188  HUDIERAS. 

Which  afterwards  he  found  untoward 

And  stubborn  to  be  kept,  or  too  hard, 

Any  three  other  Jews  o'  th'  nation  296 

Might  free  him  from  the  obligation : 

And  have  not  two  Saints  pow'r  to  use 

A  greater  privilege  than  three  Jews  ? 

The  court  of  Conscience,  which  in  man 

Should  be  supreme  and  soveran,  300 

Is  't  fit  should  be  subordinate 

To  ev'ry  petty  court  i'  th'  state, 

And  have  less  power  than  the  lesser, 

To  deal  with  perjury  at  pleasure  ? 

Have  its  proceedings  disallow'd,  or  308 

.Allow'd,  at  fancy  of  pie-powder  ? 

Tell  aU  it  does,  or  does  not  know. 

For  swearing  ex  officio  ? 

Be  forc'd  t'  impeach  a  broken  hedge, 

And  pigs  unring'd,  at  vis.  franc,  pledge?  sio 

Discover  thieves,  and  bawds,  recusants. 

Priests,  witches,  eaves-droppers,  and  nuisance  ? 

Tell  who  did  play  at  games  unlawful, 

And  who  fill'd  pots  of  ale  but  half-full  ? 

And  have  no  pow'r  at  all,  nor  shift,  3i5 

To  help  itself  at  a  dead  lift  ? 

Why  should  not  Conscience  have  vacation 

As  well  as  other  Courts  o'  th'  nation ; 

Have  equal  power  to  adjourn. 

Appoint  appearance  and  return  ;  320 

And  make  as  nice  distinction  serve 

To  split  a  case,  as  those  that  carve, 


PART    II.       CANTO    II.  189 

Invoking  cuckolds'  names,  hit  joints  ? 

Why  should  not  tricks  as  shght  do  points  ? 

Is  not  th'  High-court  of  Justice  sworn  323 

To  just  that  law  that  serves  their  turn  ? 

Make  their  own  jealousies  high  treason, 

And  fix  'em  whomsoe'er  they  please  on  ? 

Cannot  the  learned  Counsel  there 

Make  laws  in  any  shape  appear  ?  sso 

IMould  'em  as  witches  do  their  clay, 

"Wlien  they  make  pictures  to  destroy ; 

And  vex  'em  into  any  form 

That  fits  their  purpose  to  do  harm  ? 

Rack  'em  until  they  do  confess,  336 

Impeach  of  treason  whom  they  please, 

And  most  perfidiously  condemn 

Those  that  engage  their  lives  for  them ; 

And  yet  do  nothing  in  their  own  sense, 

But  what  they  ought  by  Oath  and  Conscience  ?  340 

Can  they  not  juggle,  and  with  slight 

Conveyance  play  with  wrong  and  right ; 

And  sell  their  blasts  of  wind  as  dear. 

As  Lapland  witches  bottled  air  ? 

Will  not  Fear,  Favour,  Bribe,  and  Grudge,       345 

The  same  case  sev'ral  ways  adjudge  ; 

As  seamen  with  the  self-same  gale. 

Will  several  diff 'rent  courses  sail  ? 

As  when  the  sea  breaks  o'er  its  bounds, 

And  overflows  the  level  grounds,  3d0 

V.  345.    Var.  '  Grutch.' 


190  HUDIBRAS. 

Those  banks  and  dams,  that,  hke  a  screen, 

Did  keep  it  out,  now  keep  it  in ; 

So,  when  tyrannical  usurpation 

Invades  the  freedom  of  a  nation. 

The  laws  o'  th'  land,  that  were  intended  355 

To  keep  it  out,  are  made  defend  it. 

Does  not  in  Chanc'ry  ev'ry  man  swear 

What  makes  best  for  him  in  his  answer  ? 

Is  not  the  wuiding  up  witnesses, 

And  nicking,  more  than  half  the  bus'ness  ?         360 

For  witnesses,  like  watches,  go 

Just  as  they're  set,  too  fast  or  slow ; 

And,  where  in  Conscience  they're  strait-lac'd, 

'Tis  ten  to  one  that  side  is  cast. 

Do  not  your  Juries  give  their  verdict  365 

As  if  they  felt  the  cause,  not  heard  it  ? 

And,  as  they  please,  make  matter  o'  fact 

Run  aU  on  one  side  as  they're  packt  ? 

Nature  has  made  man's  breast  no  windores, 

To  publish  what  he  does  within  dores ;  370 

Nor  what  dark  secrets  there  inhabit. 

Unless  his  own  rash  folly  blab  it. 

If  Oaths  can  do  a  man  no  good 

In  his  own  bus'ness,  why  they  should, 

In  other  matters,  do  him  hurt ;  375 

I  think  there's  little  reason  for  't. 

He  that  imposes  an  Oath,  makes  it ; 

Not  he  that  for  Convenience  takes  it : 

V.  353.     Var.  '  tyramiic.' 


PART   II.       CANTO    II.  191 

Then  how  can  any  man  be  said 

To  break  an  oath  he  never  made  ?  sso 

These  reasons  may  perhaps  look  oddly 

To  th'  Wicked,  though  they  evince  the  Godly ; 

But  if  they  will  not  serve  to  clear 

My  Honour,  I  am  ne'er  the  near. 

Honour  is  like  that  glassy  bubble  3S5 

That  finds  philosophers  such  trouble. 

Whose  least  part  crackt,  the  whole  does  fly, 

And  wits  are  crackt  to  find  out  why. 

Quoth  Ralpho,  Honour's  but  a  word 
To  swear  by  only  in  a  Lord :  390 

In  other  men  'tis  but  a  hufi* 
To  vapour  with,  instead  of  proof ; 
That,  like  a  wen,  looks  big  and  swells. 
Is  senseless,  and  just  nothuig  else. 
Let  it  (quoth  he)  be  what  it  wUl,  S95 

It  has  the  world's  opinion  still. 
But  as  men  are  not  wise  that  run 
The  slightest  hazard  they  may  shun. 
There  may  a  medium  be  found  out 
To  clear  to  aU  the  world  the  doubt ;  400 

And  that  is,  if  a  man  may  do  't, 
By  proxy  whipt,  or  substitute. 

Though  nice  and  dark  the  point  appear 
(Quoth  Ralph),  it  may  hold  up  and  clear. 
That  Simiers  may  supply  the  place  405 

Of  suff 'rmg  Saints,  is  a  plain  case. 
Justice  gives  sentence  many  times 
On  one  man  for  another's  crimes. 


192  HUDIBKAS. 

Our  Brethren  of  New  England  use 

Choice  Malefactors  to  excuse,  410 

And  hang  the  Guiltless  in  their  stead, 

Of  whom  the  churches  have  less  need ; 

As  lately  't  happen'd :  In  a  town 

There  liv'd  a  Cobbler,  and  but  one. 

That  out  of  Doctrine  could  cut  Use,  415 

And  mend  men's  lives  as  well  as  shoes. 

This  precious  Brother  having  slain 

In  times  of  peace  an  Indian, 

Not  out  of  malice,  but  mere  zeal 

(Because  he  was  an  Infidel),  430 

The  mighty  Tottipottymoy 

Sent  to  our  Elders  an  Envoy, 

Complaming  sorely  of  the  breach 

Of  league,  held  forth  by  Brother  Patch, 

Against  the  articles  in  force  426 

Between  both  Churches,  his  and  ours  ; 

For  which  he  crav'd  the  Saints  to  render 

Into  his  hands,  or  hang,  th'  offender. 

But  they,  maturely  having  weigh'd 

They  had  no  more  but  him  0'  th'  trade  430 

(A  man  that  serv'd  them  in  a  double 

Capacity,  to  teach  and  cobble), 

Resolv'd  to  spare  him  ;  yet,  to  do 

The  Indian  Hoghan  Moghan  too 

Impartial  justice,  in  his  stead  did  435 

Hang  an  old  "Weaver  that  was  bed-rid. 

Then  wherefore  may  not  you  be  skipp'd, 

And  in  your  room  another  whipp'd  ? 


PART    II.       CANTO    II.  193 

For  all  philosophers,  but  the  Sceptic, 

Hold  wliipping  may  be  sympathetic.  440 

It  is  enough,  quoth  Hudibras, 
Thou  hast  resolv'd  and  clear'd  the  case ; 
Aiid  canst,  in  Conscience,  not  refuse 
From  thy  own  Doctrme  to  raise  Use  : 
I  know  thou  wilt  not  (for  my  sake)  445 

Be  tender-conscienc'd  of  thy  back : 
Then  strip  thee  of  thy  carnal  jerkin. 
And  give  thy  outward-feUow  a  ferking  ; 
For  when  thy  vessel  is  new  hoop'd, 
AU  leaks  of  sinnmg  will  be  stopp'd.  450 

Quoth  Ralpho,  You  mistake  the  matter ; 
For  in  all  scruples  of  this  nature 
No  man  includes  himself,  nor  turns 
The  point  upon  his  own  concerns; 
As  no  man  of  his  own  self  catches  455 

The  itch  or  amorous  French  aches  ; 
So  no  man  does  himself  convince. 
By  his  own  doctrine,  of  liis  sins  r 
And  though  all  cry  down  self,  none  means 
His  own  self  in  a  literal  sense.  460 

Besides,  it  is  not  only  foppish, 
But  vile,  idolatrous,  and  Popish, 
For  one  man  out  of  his  own  skin 
To  firk  and  whip  another's  sin ; 
As  pedants  out  of  schoolboys'  breeches  465 

Do  claw  and  curry  their  own  itches. 
But  in  this  case  it  is  profane, 
And  sinful  too,  because  in  vain ; 


194  HUDIBRAS. 

For  we  must  take  our  oaths  upon  it 

You  did  the  deed,  when  I  have  done  it.  470 

Quoth  Hudibras,  That's  answer'd  soon ; 
Give  us  the  whip,  we'll  lay  it  on. 

Quoth  Ralpho,  That  we  may  swear  true, 
'Twere  properer  that  I  whipp'd  you  ; 
For  when  with  your  consent  'tis  done,  475 

The  act  is  really  your  own. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  It  is  m  vain 
(I  see)  to  argue  'gainst  the  grain  ; 
Or,  like  the  stars,  mclme  men  to 
What  they  're  averse  themselves  to  do  :  48o 

For  when  disputes  are  weary'd  out, 
'Tis  int'rest  still  resolves  the  doubt. 
But  since  no  reason  can  confute  ye, 
I'll  try  to  force  you  to  your  duty ; 
For  so  it  is,  howe'er  you  mince  it,  485 

As,  ere  we  part,  I  shall  evince  it ; 
And  curry  (if  you  stand  out),  whether 
You  will  or  no,  your  stubborn  leather.. 
Canst  thou  refuse  to  bear  thy  part 
r  th'  public  Work,  base  as  thou  art  ?  490 

To  higgle  thus  for  a  few  blows, 
To  gain  thy  Knight  an  op'lent  spouse, 
Whose  wealth  his  bowels  yearn  to  purchase 
Merely  for  th'  mt'rest  of  the  Chui'ches  ? 
And  when  he  has  it  in  his  claws  495 

Will  not  be  hide-bound  to  the  Cause ; 
Nor  shalt  thou  find  him  a  curmudgin 
K  thou  dispatch  it  without  grudging : 


PART    II.     CANTO   II.  105 

If  not,  resolve,  before  we  go. 

That  you  and  I  must  pull  a  crow.  500 

Y'  had  best  (quoth  Ralpho),  as  the  Ancients 
Say  wisely,  Have  a  care  o'  th'  main  chance, 
And  Look  before  you  ere  you  leap  ; 
For  As  you  sow,  y'  are  like  to  reap : 
And  were  y'  as  good  as  George-a- Green,  505 

I  should  make  bold  to  turn  agen ; 
Nor  am  I  doubtful  of  the  issue 
In  a  just  quarrel,  and  mme  is  so. 
Is  't  fitting  for  a  man  of  honour 
To  whip  the  Saints,  like  Bishop  Bonner  ?  510 

A  Knight  t'  usurp  the  Beadle's  office. 
For  which  y'  are  like  to  raise  brave  trophies  ? 
But  I  advise  you  (not  for  fear. 
But  for  your  own  sake)  to  forbear  ; 
And  for  the  Churches,  which  may  chance  516 

From  hence  to  spring  a  variance. 
And  raise  among  themselves  new  scruples, 
Whom  common  danger  hardly  couples. 
Remember  how  in  arms  and  politics 
We  still  have  worsted  all  your  holy  tricks ;       520 
Trepann'd  your  party  with  intrigue. 
And  took  your  Grandees  down  a  peg  ; 
New-modell'd  th'  army,  and  casliier'd 
All  that  to  Legion  Smec  adher'd  ; 
Made  a  mere  utensil  o'  your  Church,  525 

And  after  left  it  in  the  lurch, 
A  scaffold  to  build  up  our  own, 
And  when  w'  had  done  with  't  pull'd  it  down ; 


196  HTTDIBRAS. 

Capocli'd  your  Rabbins  of  the  Synod, 

And  snapp'd  their  Canons  with  a  Why-not        sso 

(Grave  Synod-men,  that  were  rever'd 

For  sohd  face  and  depth  of  beard)  ; 

Their  Classic  model  prov'd  a  maggot. 

Their  Direct' ry  an  Indian  pagod  ; 

Aiid  drown'd  their  Discipline  like  a  kitten,        535 

On  which  th'  had  been  so  long  a-sitting ; 

Decry'd  it  as  a  holy  cheat 

Grown  out  of  date  and  obsolete. 

And  all  the  Saints  of  the  first  grass 

As  castling  foals  of  Balaam's  ass.  540 

At  this  the  Knight  grew  high  in  chafe, 
And,  staring  furiously  on  Ralph, 
He  trembled  and  look'd  pale  with  ire, 
Like  ashes  first,  then  red  as  fire. 
Have  I  (quoth  he)  been  ta'en  in  fight,  545 

And  for  so  many  moons  lain  by  't. 
And  when  all  other  means  did  fail 
Have  been  exchang'd  for  tubs  of  ale 
(Not  but  they  thought  me  worth  a  ransom 
Much  more  consid'rable  and  handsome,  550 

But  for  their  own  sakes,  and  for  fear 
They  were  not  safe  when  I  was  there), 
Now  to  be  baffled  by  a  scoundrel. 
An  upstart  Sect'ry  and  a  Mongrel, 
Such  as  breed  out  of  peccant  humours  555 

Of  our  own  Church,  like  wens  or  tumours, 

V.  529.    Var.  '  O'er-reach'd.'     '  Capoch'd' signifies  hooded, 
or  blindfolded. 


PART    II.       CANTO    II.  197 

And,  like  a  maggot  in  a  sore, 

Would  that  wliicli  gave  it  life  devour  ? 

It  never  shall  be  done  or  said. 

With  that  he  seiz'd  upon  his  blade ;  oeo 

And  Ralpho  too,  as  quick  and  bold, 

Upon  his  basket-hilt  laid  hold 

With  equal  readiness,  prepar'd 

To  draw  and  stand  upon  his  guard : 

When  both  were  parted  on  the  sudden  565 

With  hideous  clamour  and  a  loud  one. 

As  if  aU  sorts  of  noise  had  been 

Contracted  into  one  loud  din  ; 

Or  that  some  member  to  be  chosen 

Had  got  the  odds  above  a  thousand,  570 

And  by  the  greatness  of  his  noise 

Prov'd  fittest  for  his  country's  choice. 

This  strange  surprisal  put  the  Knight 

And  wrathful  Squire  into  a  fright ; 

And  though  they  stood  prepar'd,  with  fatal        575 

Impetuous  rancour,  to  join  battle. 

Both  thought  it  was  the  wisest  course 

To  wave  the  fight  and  mount  to  horse, 

And  to  secure  by  swift  retreating 

Themselves  from  danger  of  worse  beating :        5so 

Yet  neither  of  them  would  disparage. 

By  utt'ring  of  his  mind,  his  courage. 

Which  made  them  stoutly  keep  their  ground. 

With  horror  and  disdain  wind-bound. 

And  now  the  cause  of  all  their  fear  sss 

By  slow  degrees  approach'd  so  near 


198  HUDIBRAS. 

They  might  distinguish  diff'rent  noise 

Of  horns,  and  pans,  and  dogs,  and  boys, 

And  kettle-drums,  whose  sullen  dub 

Sounds  like  the  hooping  of  a  tub.  690 

But  when  the  sight  appear'd  in  view, 

They  found  it  was  an  antique  shew  ; 

A  triumph  that  for  pomp  and  state 

Did  proudest  Roman's  emulate. 

For  as  the  Aldermen  of  Rome,  695 

Their  foes  at  training  overcome 

(And  not  enlarging  territory. 

As  some  mistaken  write  in  story), 

Being  mounted  in  their  best  array 

Upon  a  car  —  and  who  but  they  ?  — •  eoo 

And  follow'd  with  a  world  of  tall  lads 

That  merry  ditties  troU'd  and  ballads, 

Did  ride  with  many  a  Good-morrow, 

Crying,  Hey  for  our  town  !  through  the  Borough ; 

So  when  this  triumph  drew  so  nigh  eoa 

They  might  particulars  descry, 

They  never  saw  two  things  so  pat 

In  all  respects  as  tliis  and  that. 

First,  he  that  led  the  cavalcate 

Wore  a  sow-gelder's  flagellate,  eio 

On  which  he  blew  so  strong  a  levet 

As  well-feed  lawyer  on  his  brev'ate 

Wlien  over  one  another's  heads 

V.  587.    Var.  '  They  might  discern  respective  noise.' 

V.  596.     Var.  '  For  foes.' 

V.  609,  610.     Var.  'cavalcade,'  'flagellet.' 


PART    II.       CANTO    II.  199 

They  charge  (three  ranks  at  once)  like  Sweads. 

Next  pans  and  kettles  of  all  keys,  6i5 

From  trebles  down  to  double  base ; 

And  after  them,  upon  a  nag 

That  might  pass  for  a  forehand  stag, 

A  cornet  i"ode,  and  on  his  staff 

A  smock  display'd  did  proudly  wave :  620 

Then  bagpipes  of  the  loudest  drones 

With  snuffling  broken-winded  tones, 

Whose  blasts  of  air,  in  pockets  shut, 

Sound  filthier  than  from  the  gut. 

And  make  a  viler  noise  than  swine  625 

In  windy  weather  when  they  whine. 

Next  one  upon  a  pair  of  panniers, 

FuU  fraught  with  that  which  for  good  manners 

Shall  here  be  nameless,  mix'd  with  grains, 

Which  he  dispens'd  among  the  swains,  630 

And  busily  upon  the  crowd 

At  random  round  about  bestow'd. 

Then,  mounted  on  a  horned  horse. 

One  bore  a  gauntlet  and  gilt  spurs, 

Ty'd  to  the  pummel  of  a  long  sword  635 

He  held  revers'd,  the  point  turn'd  downward. 

Next  after,  on  a  raw-bon'd  steed, 

The  conqu'ror's  Standard-bearer  rid, 

And  bore  aloft  before  the  champion 

A  petticoat  display'd,  and  rampant ;  G40 

Near  whom  the  Amazon  triumphant 

V.  614.    Var.  '  Swedes.' 


200  HUDIBEAS. 

Bestrid  her  beast,  and  on  the  rump  on't 

Sat,  face  to  tail  and  bum  to  bum, 

The  warrior  whilom  overcome, 

Ai-m'd  with  a  spindle  and  a  distaff,  645 

Wliich  as  he  rode  she  made  him  twist  off; 

And  when  he  loiter'd,  o'er  her  shoulder 

Chastis'd  the  reformado  soldier. 

Before  the  Dame  and  round  about 

March'd  whifflers  and  Staffiers  on  foot,  650 

With  lacquies,  grooms,  valets,  and  pages, 

In  fit  and  proper  equipages  ; 

Of  whom  some  torches  bore,  some  links. 

Before  the  proud  virago  minx, 

That  was  both  Madam  and  a  Don,  655 

Like  Nero's  Sporus  or  Pope  Joan ; 

And  at  fit  periods  the  whole  rout 

Set  up  their  throats  with  clam'rous  shout. 

The  Knight  transported,  and  the  Squire, 

Put  up  their  weapons  and  their  ire ;  660 

And  Hudibras,  who  us'd  to  ponder 

On  such  sights  with  judicious  wonder. 

Could  hold  no  longer  to  impart 

His  an'madversions,  for  his  heart. 

Quoth  he,  In  all  my  life  till  now  668 

I  ne'er  saw  so  profane  a  show : 
It  is  a  Paganish  invention 
Wliich  Heathen  writers  often  mention ; 
And  he  who  made  it  had  read  Goodwin, 
Or  Ross,  or  Ccelius  Rhodogine,  670 

With  all  the  Grecian  Speeds  and  Stows 


PART   II.      CANTO    U.  201 

That  best  describe  those  ancient  shows, 

And  has  obsei'v'd  all  fit  decorums 

We  find  describ'd  by  old  historians. 

For  as  the  Roman  conqueror  675 

That  put  an  end  to  foreign  war, 

Ent'ring  the  town  in  triumph  for  it. 

Bore  a  slave  with  him  in  his  chariot ; 

So  this  insulting  female  brave 

Carries  behind  her  here  a  slave :  eso 

And  as  the  Ancients  lono;  ago, 

When  they  in  field  defy'd  the  foe. 

Hung  out  their  mantles  della  guerre, 

So  her  proud  Standard-beai-er  here 

Waves  on  his  spear,  in  di-eadful  manner,  gbs 

A  Tyrian  petticoat  for  banner, 

Next  links  and  torches,  heretofore 

Still  borne  before  the  emperor : 

And,  as  in  antique  triumph  eggs 

Were  borne  for  mystical  intrigues,  690 

There  's  one  in  truncheon,  like  a  ladle, 

That  carries  eggs  too,  fresh  or  addle ; 

And  still  at  random  as  he  goes 

Among  the  rabble-rout  bestows. 

Quoth  Ralpho,  You  mistake  the  matter ;       ess 
For  aU  th'  antiquity  you  smaller 
Is  but  a  riding  us'd  of  course 
When  The  grey  mare  's  the  better  horse ; 
When  o'er  the  breeches  greedy  women 
Fight  to  extend  their  vast  dominion,  700 

And  in  the  cause  impatient  Grizel 

VOL.  I.  17 


202  HUDIBRAS. 

Has  drubb'd  her  husband  with  bull's  pizzle, 

And  brought  him  under  Covert-baron, 

To  turn  her  vassal  with  a  murrain  ; 

When  wives  their  sexes  shift,  hke  liares,  705 

And  ride  their  husbands,  like  night-mares. 

And  they  in  mortal  battle  vanquish'd 

Are  of  their  charter  disenfranchis'd, 

And  by  the  right  of  war,  like  gills, 

Condemn'd  to  distaff,  horns,  and  wheels  :  7io 

For  when  men  by  their  wives  are  cow'd, 

Their  horns  of  course  are  understood. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  Thou  still  giv'st  sentence 
Impertinently,  and  against  sense  :  , 
'Tis  not  the  least  disparagement  7i6 

To  be  defeated  by  th'  event, 
Nor  to  be  beaten  by  main  force ; 
That  does  not  make  a  man  the  worse. 
Although  his  shoulders  with  battoon 
Be  claw'd  and  cudgel'd  to  some  tune.  7ao 

A  tailor's  prentice  has  no  hard 
Measure  that  's  bang'd  with  a  true  yard ; 
But  to  turn  tail  or  run  away, 
And  without  blows  give  up  the  day, 
Or  to  surrender  ere  th'  assault,  725 

That  's  no  man's  fortune,  but  his  fault ; 
And  renders  men  of  honour  less 
Than  all  th'  adversity  of  success : 
And  only  unto  such  this  shew 
Of  horns  and  petticoats  is  due.  780 

There  is  a  lesser  profanation. 


PART   II.      CANTO   II.  203 

Like  that  the  Romans  call'd  Ovation: 

For  as  ovation  was  allow'd 

Foi'  conquest  purchas'd  without  blood, 

So  men  decree  those  lesser  shows  735 

For  vict'ry  gotten  without  blows, 

By  dint  of  sharp  hard  words,  which  some 

Give  battle  with  and  overcome  : 

These  mounted  in  a  chair-curule. 

Which  Moderns  call  a  Cuckling-stool,  740 

March  proudly  to  the  river  side, 

And  o'er  the  waves  in  triumph  ride ; 

Like  dukes  of  Venice,  who  are  said 

The  Adriatic  sea  to  wed, 

And  have  a  gentler  wife  than  those  745 

For  whom  the  state  decrees  those  shows. 

But  both  are  Heathenish,  and  come 

From  th'  Whores  of  Babylon  and  Rome, 

And  by  the  Saints  should  be  withstood. 

As  antichristian  and  lewd ;  760 

And  we  as  such  should  now  contribute 

Our  utmost  stragglings  to  prohibit. 

This  said,  they  both  advanc'd,  and  rode 
A  dog-trot  through  the  bawling  crowd 
T'  attack  the  leader,  and  still  prest  755 

Till  they  approach'd  him  breast  to  breast. 
Then  Hudibras  with  face  and  hand 
Made  signs  for  silence ;  which  obtain'd : 
What  means  (quoth  he)  this  devil's  procession 
With  men  of  orthodox  profession  ?  760 

'Tis  ethnique  and  idolatrous. 


204  HUDIBRAS. 

From  Heathenism  deriv'd  to  us. 

Does  not  the  Whore  of  Bab'lon  ride 

Upon  her  horned  Beast  astride 

Like  this  proud  Dame,  who  either  is  7*5 

A  type  of  her,  or  she  of  this  ? 

Are  things  of  superstitious  function 

Fit  to  be  us'd  in  Gospel  sunshine  ? 

It  is  an  antichristian  opera, 

Much  us'd  in  midnight  times  of  Popery ;  770 

Of  running  after  self-inventions 

Of  wicked  and  profane  intentions  ; 

To  scandalize  that  sex  for  scolding, 

To  whom  the  Saints  are  so  beholden. 

"Women,  who  were  our  first  apostles,  -75 

Without  whose  aid  we  'ad  all  been  lost  else ; 

Women,  that  left  no  stone  untum'd 

In  which  the  Cause  might  be  concern'd ; 

Brought  in  their  children's  spoons  and  whistles 

To  purchase  swords,  carbines,  and  pistols  ;         78O 

Their  husbands'  cullies  and  sweethearts, 

To  take  the  Saints'  and  Churches'  parts  j 

Drew  several  Gifted  Brethren  in, 

V.  775.  The  women  were  zealous  contributors  to  the  Good 
Cause,  as  they  called  it.  Mr.  James  Howel  obseiTes,  "  That 
unusual  voluntary  collections  were  made  both  in  town  and 
country;  the  seamstress  brought  in  her  silver  thimble,  the 
chambermaid  her  bodkin,  the  cook  her  silver  spoon,  into  the 
common  treasury  of  war.  —  And  some  sort  of  females  were 
freer  in  their  contributions,  so  far  as  to  part  with  their  rings 
and  earrings,  as  if  some  golden  calf  were  to  be  molten  and 
set  up  to  be  idolized." 


PART    II.       CANTO    II.  205 

That  for  the  Bishops  would  have  been, 

And  fix'd  'em  constant  to  the  party  785 

With  motives  powerful  and  hearty ; 

Their  husbands  robb'd,  and  made  hard  shifts 

T'  administer  unto  their  Gifts 

All  they  could  rap,  and  rend,  and  pilfer, 

To  scraps  and  ends  of  gold  and  silver ;  790 

Rubb'd  down  the  Teachers,  tir'd  and  spent 

"With  holding  forth  for  Parl'ament ; 

Pamper'd  and  edify'd  their  zeal 

With  marrow  puddings  many  a  meal ; 

Enabled  them,  with  store  of  meat,  795 

On  controverted  points  to  eat ; 

And  cramm'd  'em  till  their  guts  did  ake 

With  caudle,  custard,  and  plum-cake. 

What  have  they  done  or  what  left  undone 

That  might  advance  the  Cause  at  London  ?        soo 

March'd  rank  and  file  with  drum  and  ensign, 

T'  intrench  the  City  for  defence  in ; 

Rais'd  rampiers  with  their  own  soft  hands, 

To  put  the  Enemy  to  stands  : 

From  ladies  down  to  oyster  wenches  sos 

Labour'd  like  pioneers  in  trenches, 

FaU'n  to  their  pickaxes  and  tools, 

And  help'd  the  men  to  dig  like  moles. 

Have  not  the  handmaids  of  the  City 

Chose  of  their  Members  a  Committee,  sio 

For  raising  of  a  common  purse, 

V.  807.    Var.  'FeU.' 


206  HUDIBRAS. 

Out  of  their  wages,  to  raise  horse  ? 

And  do  they  not  as  triers  sit, 

To  judge  what  officers  are  fit  ? 

Have  they  —  At  that  an  egg  let  fly  sis 

Hit  him  directly  o'er  the  eye, 

And,  running  down  his  cheek,  besmear'd 

With  orange-tawny  slime  his  beard ; 

But  beard  and  slime  being  of  one  hue, 

The  wound  the  less  appear'd  in  view.  820 

Then  he  that  on  the  panniers  rode 

Let  fly  on  th'  other  side  a  load. 

And,  quickly  charg'd  again,  gave  fully 

In  Ralpho's  face  another  volley. 

The  Knight  was  startled  with  the  smell,  S25 

And  for  his  sword  began  to  feel; 

And  Ralpho,  smother'd  with  the  stink, 

Grasp'd  his,  when  one  that  bore  a  Unk 

O'  th'  sudden  clapp'd  his  flaming  cudgel. 

Like  linstock,  to  the  horse's  touch-hole ;  sso 

And  straight  another  with  his  flambeau 

Gave  Ralpho  o'er  the  eyes  a  damn'd  blow. 

The  beasts  began  to  kick  and  fling, 

And  forc'd  the  rout  to  make  a  ring ; 

V.  813,  814.  "  The  House  considered,  in  the  next  place, 
that  divers  weak  persons  have  crept  into  places  beyond  their 
abilities ;  and,  to  the  end  that  men  of  greater  parts  may  be  put 
Into  their  rooms,  they  appointed  the  Lady  Middlesex,  Mrs. 
Dunch,  the  Lady  Foster,  and  the  Lady  Anne  WaUer,  by  reason 
of  their  great  experience  in  soldiery  in  the  kingdom,  to  be  a 
Committee  of  Triers  for  the  business."  See  "  The  Parlia- 
ment of  Ladies,"  p.  6.  ^ 


PART   II.      CANTO    II. 


207 


Through  which  they  quickly  broke  their  way,  835 

And  brought  them  oflf  from  further  fray. 

And  though  disorder'd  in  retreat, 

Each  of  them  stoutly  kept  his  seat : 

For  quitting  both  their  swords  and  reins, 

They  grasp'd  with  all  their  strength  the  manes,  840 

And,  to  avoid  the  foe's  pursuit, 

With  spurring  put  their  cattle  to  't ; 

And  till  all  four  were  out  of  wind. 

And  danger  too,  ne'er  look'd  behind. 

After  they  'ad  paus'd  awhile,  supplying  845 

Their  spirits  spent  with  fight  and  flying, 

And  Hudibras  recruited  force 

Of  lungs  for  action  or  discourse : 

Quoth  he,  That  man  is  sure  to  lose 
That  fouls  his  hands  with  dirty  foes :  850 

For  where  no  honour  's  to  be  gain'd, 
'Tis  thrown  away  in  being  maintain'd. 
'Twas  ill  for  us  we  had  to  do 
With  so  dishon'rable  a  foe : 

For  though  the  law  of  arms  doth  bar  855 

The  use  of  venom'd  shot  in  war, 
Yet  by  the  nauseous  smell  and  noisom 
Their  case-shot  savour  strong  of  poison, 
And  doubtless  have  been  chew'd  with  teeth 
Of  some  that  had  a  stinking  breath;  860 

Else  when  we  put  it  to  the  push, 
They  had  not  giv'n  us  such  a  brush. 

V.  839.    Var.  '  Rains.' 


208  HUDIBRAS. 

But  as  those  pultroons  that  fling  dirt 

Do  but  defile,  but  cannot  hurt ; 

So  all  the  honour  they  have  won,  865 

Or  we  have  lost,  is  much  at  one. 

'Twas  well  we  made  so  resolute 

A  brave  retreat  without  pursuit, 

For  if  we  had  not,  we  had  sped 

Much  worse,  to  be  in  triumph  led ;  870 

Than  which  the  ancients  held  no  state 

Of  man's  life  more  unfortunate. 

But  if  this  bold  adventure  e'er 

Do  chance  to  reach  the  widow's  ear, 

It  may,  being  destin'd  to  assert  875 

Her  sex's  honour,  reach  her  heart : 

And  as  such  homely  treats  (they  say) 

Portend  good  fortune,  so  this  may. 

Vespasian  being  daub'd  with  dirt 

Was  destin'd  to  the  empire  for  't ;  sso 

And  from  a  scavenger  did  come 

To  be  a  mighty  prince  in  Rome : 

And  why  may  not  this  foul  address 

Presage  in  love  the  same  success  ? 

Then  let  us  straight,  to  cleanse  our  wounds,      sss 

Advance  in  quest  of  nearest  ponds  ; 

And  after  (as  we  first  design'd) 

Swear  Pve  perform'd  what  she  enjoin'd. 

V.  868.    Yar.  '  T'  avoid  pursuit.' 


PART   II.      CANTO    III.  209 


PART    II.    CANTO    III. 

THE    ARGUMENT. 

The  Knight,  with  various  doubts  possest, 

To  win  the  Lady  goes  in  quest 

Of  Sidrophel  the  Eosycrucian, 

To  know  the  Dest'nies'  resolution : 

With  whom  b'ing  met,  they  both  chop  logic 

About  the  science  astrologic ; 

Till,  falUng  from  dispute  to  fight. 

The  Conj'rer's  worsted  by  the  Knight. 

Doubtless  the  pleasure  is  as  great 

Of  being  cheated,  as  to  cheat ; 

As  lookers-on  feel  most  delight 

That  least  perceive  a  juggler's  sleight, 

And  still,  the  less  they  understand,  5 

The  more  they'  admire  his  sleight  of  hand, 

Some  with  a  noise  and  greasy  light 
Are  snapt,  as  men  catch  larks  by  night, 
Ensnar'd  and  hamper'd  by  the  soul, 
As  nooses  by  the  legs  catch  fowl.  10 

Some  with  a  med'cine  and  receipt 
Are  drawn  to  nibble  at  the  bait ; 
Ajid  though  it  be  a  two-foot  trout, 
'Tis  with  a  single  hair  pull'd  out. 

Others  believe  no  voice  t'  an  organ  is 

So  sweet  as  lawyer's  in  his  bar-gown, 


210  HUDIBRAS. 

Until  with  subtle  cobweb-cheats 

The/re  catch'd  in  knotted  law  like  nets ; 

In  which,  when  once  they  are  imbrangled, 

The  more  they  stu-  the  more  they're  tangled ;     20 

And  while  their  purses  can  dispute, 

There's  no  end  of  th'  immortal  suit. 

Others  still  gape  t'  anticipate 
The  cabinet-designs  of  Fate, 
Apply  to  wizards  to  foresee  25 

What  shall  and  what  shaU  never  be ; 
And,  as  those  vultures  do-  forebode, 
Believe  events  prove  bad  or  good : 
A  flam  more  senseless  than  the  roguery 
Of  old  auruspicy  and  aug'ry,  so 

That  out  of  garbages  of  cattle 
Presag'd  th'  events  of  truce  or  battle ; 
From  flight  of  birds,  or  chickens'  pecking, 
Success  of  great'st  attempts  would  reckon  : 
Though  cheats,  yet  more  intelligible  35 

Than  those  that  with  the  stars  do  fribble. 
This  Hudibras  by  proof  found  true. 
As  in  due  time  and  place  we'U  shew : 
For  he,  with  beard  and  face  made  clean, 
Being  mounted  on  his  steed  agen,  40 

(And  Ralpho  got  a-cock-horse  too 
Upon  his  beast,  with  much  ado), 
Advanc'd  on  for  the  Widow's  house, 
T'  acquit  himself  and  pay  his  vows  : 

V.  25.    Var.  '  Run  after  wizards.' 


PART   II.      CANTO    III.  211 

When  various  thoughts  began  to  bustle,  45 

And  with  his  inward  man  to  justle. 

He  thought  what  danger  might  accrue, 

If  she  should  find  he  swore  untrue ; 

Or  if  his  Squire  or  he  should  fail, 

And  not  be  punctual  in  their  tale,  50 

It  might  at  once  the  ruin  prove 

Both  of  his  honour,  faith,  and  love. 

But  if  he  should  forbear  to  go,  ^ 

She  might  conclude  he  'ad  broke  liis  vow ; 

And  that  he  durst  not  now  for  shame  6S 

Appear  in  court  to  try  his  claim : 

This  was  the  penn'worth  of  his  thought. 

To  pass  time,  and  uneasy  trot. 

Quoth  he.  In  all  my  past  adventures 
I  ne'er  was  set  so  on  the  tenters,  60 

Or  taken  tardy  with  dilemma 
That  ev'ry  way  I  turn  does  hem  me, 
And  with  inextricable  doubt 
Besets  my  puzzled  wits  about : 
For  though  the  Dame  has  been  my  bail,  65 

To  free  me  from  enchanted  jail. 
Yet  as  a  dog,  committed  close 
For  some  offence,  by  chance  breaks  loose, 
And  quits  liis  clog ;  but  all  in  vain, 
He  still  draws  after  him  his  chain  :  70 

So,  though  my  ankle  she  has  quitted, 
My  heart  continues  still  committed ; 
And,  like  a  bail'd  and  mainpriz'd  lover, 
Although  at  large,  I  am  bound  over; 


212  HUDIBRAS. 

And  when  I  shall  appear  in  court  75 

To  plead  my  cause  and  answer  for  't, 

Unless  the  judge  do  partial  prove, 

"Wliat  will  become  of  me  and  love  ? 

For,  if  in  our  account  we  vary. 

Or  but  in  circumstance  miscarry ;  so 

Or  if  she  put  me  to  strict  proof. 

And  make  me  pull  my  doublet  off 

To  shew,  by  evident  record 

Writ  on  my  skin,  I've  kept  my  word, 

How  can  I  e'er  expect  to  have  her,  86 

Having  demurr'd  unto  her  favour  ? 

But,  faith  and  love  and  honour  lost. 

Shall  be  reduc'd  t'  a  Knight  o'  th'  Post? 

Beside,  that  stripping  may  prevent 

Wliat  I'm  to  prove  by  argument,  90 

And  justify  I  have  a  tail. 

And  that  way  too  my  proof  may  fail. 

Oh,  that  I  could  enucleate. 

And  solve  the  problems  of  my  fate ! 

Or  find  by  necromantic  art  96 

How  far  the  Dest'nies  take  my  part ! 

For  if  I  were  not  more  than  certain 

To  win  and  wear  her  and  her  fortune, 

I'd  go  no  farther  in  this  courtship. 

To  hazard  soul,  estate,  and  Worship :  lOO 

For  though  an  oath  obliges  not 

Where  any  thing  is  to  be  got 

(As  thou  hast  prov'd),  yet  'tis  profane 

And  sinful  when  men  swear  in  vain. 


PART   II.      CANTO    III.  213 

Quoth  Ealph,  Not  far  from  hence  doth  dwell  i05 
A  cunning  man,  hight  Sidrophel, 
That  deals  in  Destiny's  dark  counsels, 
And  sage  opinions  of  the  Moon  sells ; 
To  whom  all  people,  far  and  near. 
On  deep  importances  repair :  no 

When  brass  and  pewter  hap  to  stray, 
And  hnen  slinks  out  o'  the  way ; 
When  geese  and  puUen  are  seduc'd, 
And  sows  of  sucking  pigs  are  chous'd ; 
When  cattle  feel  indisposition,  115 

And  need  th'  opinion  of  physician ; 
When  murrain  reigns  in  hogs  or  sheep. 
And  chickens  languish  of  the  pip ; 
WTien  yest  and  outward  means  do  fail. 
And  have  no  pow'r  to  work  on  ale ;  120 

When  butter  does  refuse  to  come, 
And  love  proves  cross  and  humoursome  ; 
To  him  with  questions,  and  with  urine. 
They  for  discov'ry  flock,  or  curing. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  This  Sidrophel  129 

I've  heard  of,  and  should  hke  it  well. 
If  thou  canst  prove  the  Saints  have  freedom 
To  go  to  sorc'rers  when  they  need  'em. 

Says  Ralpho,  There  's  no  doubt  of  that ; 
Those  principles  I  quoted  late  iso 

V.  106.  William  Lilly,  the  famous  astrologer  of  those  times, 
who  in  his  yearly  almanacks  foretold  victories  for  the  Parlia- 
ment with  as  much  certainty  as  the  preachers  did  in  their 
sermons. 


214  HUDIBRAS. 

Prove  that  the  Godly  may  allege 

For  any  thing  their  privilege, 

And  to  the  dev'l  himself  may  go 

If  they  have  motives  thereunto  : 

For,  as  there  is  a  war  between  iss 

The  dev'l  and  them,  it  is  no  sin 

If  they  by  subtle  stratagem 

Make  use  of  him,  as  he  does  them. 

Has  not  this  present  Parl'ament 

A  ledger  to  the  devil  sent,  i40 

Fully  empower'd  to  treat  about 

Finding  revolted  witches  out? 

And  has  not  he,  within  a  year, 

Hang'd  threescore  of  'em  in  one  shire  ? 

Some  only  for  not  being  drown'd,  145 

And  some  for  sitting  above  ground, 

Wliole  days  and  nights,  upon  their  breeches, 

Not  feehng  pain,  were  hang'd  for  witches ; 

And  some  for  putting  knavish  tricks 

Upon  green  geese  and  turkey-chicks,  iso 

Or  pigs  that  suddenly  deceast 

Of  griefs  unnat'ral,  as  he  guest ; 

Who  after  prov'd  himself  a  witch, 

And  made  a  rod  for  his  own  breech. 

Did  not  the  dev'l  appear  to  Martin  '       155 

Luther  in  Germany,  for  certain  ? 

And  would  have  guU'd  him  with  a  trick, 

But  Mart,  was  too,  too  politic. 

Did  he  not  help  the  Dutch  to  purge. 

At  Antwerp,  their  cathedral  church?  leo 


PART    II.      CANTO    III.  215 

Sing  catches  to  the  Samts  at  Mascon, 

And  tell  them  all  they  came  to  ask  him  ? 

Appear  in  divei's  shapes  to  Kelly, 

And  speak  i'  th'  Nun  of  Loudon's  belly  ? 

Meet  with  the  Parl'ament's  Committee,  i63 

At  "Woodstock,  on  a  pers'nal  treaty  ? 

At  Sarum  take  a  cavalier, 

r  th'  Cause's  service,  prisoner  ? 

As  Withers  in  immortal  rhyme 

Has  register'd  to  aftertime.  no 

Do  not  our  great  Reformers  use 

This  Sidrophel  to  forebode  news ; 

To  write  of  victories  next  year, 

And  castles  taken,  yet  i'  th'  air  ? 

Of  battles  fought  at  sea,  and  ships  ns 

Sunk  two  years  hence  the  last  echpse  ? 

A  total  o'erthrow  giv'n  the  King 

In  Cornwall,  horse  and  foot,  next  Spring? 

And  has  not  he  point-blank  foretold 

Whats'e'er  the  Close  Committee  would?  iso 

Made  Mars  and  Saturn  for  the  Cause  ? 

The  Moon  for  fundamental  laws  ? 

The  Ram,  the  Bull,  and  Goat,  declare 

Against  the  Book  of  Common  Pray'r  ? 

The  Scorpion  take  the  Protestation,  iss 

And  Bear  engage  for  Reformation  ? 

Made  all  the  Royal  stars  recant. 

Compound,  and  take  the  Covenant  ? 

V.  169.  This  Withers  was  a  Puritanical  officer  in  the  Par- 
liament army,  and  a  great  pretender  to  poetry,  as  appears 
from  his  poems  enumerated  by  A.  Wood. 


216  HUDIBRAS. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  The  case  is  clear. 
The  Saints  may  'mploy  a  conjurer,  i9o 

As  thou  hast  prov'd  it  by  their  practice 
No  argument  like  matter  of  fact  is ; 
And  we  are  best  of  all  led  to 
Men's  principles  by  what  they  do. 
Then  let  us  straight  advance  in  quest  195 

Of  this  profound  gymnosophist, 
And,  as  the  Fates  and  he  advise, 
Pursue  or  wave  this  enterprise. 
This  said,  he  turn'd  about  his  steed, 
And  eftsoons  on  th'  adventure  rid ;  290 

Where  leave  we  him  and  Ralph  awhile. 
And  to  the  conj'rer  turn  our  style, 
To  let  our  reader  understand 
"What 's  useful  of  him  beforehand. 
He  had  been  long  t'wards  mathematics,  206 

Optics,  philosophy,  and  statics, 
Magic,  horoscopy,  astrology, 
And  was  old  dog  at  physiology ; 
But  as  a  dog  that  turns  the  spit 
Bestu's  himself,  and  plies  his  feet  210 

To  climb  the  wheel,  but  all  in  vain, 
His  own  weight  brings  him  down  again, 
And  still  he  's  in  the  self-same  place 
Where  at  his  setting  out  he  was  ; 
So  in  the  circle  of  the  arts  216 

Did  he  advance  his  nat'ral  parts, 
Till  falling  back  still,  for  retreat. 
He  fell  to  juggle,  cant,  and  cheat. 
For  as  those  fowls  that  live  in  water 


PAET    II.       CANTO    III.  217 

Are  never  wet,  he  did  but  smatter ;  230 

"Whate'er  he  labour'd  to  appear, 

His  understanding  still  was  clear ; 

Yet  none  a  deeper  knowledge  boasted, 

Since  old  Hodge  Bacon,  and  Bob  Grosted. 

Th'  intelligible  world  he  knew,  225 

And  all  men  dream  on  't  to  be  true. 

That  in  this  world  there  's  not  a  wart 

That  has  not  there  a  counterpart ; 

Nor  can  there  on  the  face  of  ground 

An  mdividual  beard  be  found  230 

That  has  not  in  that  foreign  nation 

A  fellow  of  the  self-same  fashion  ; 

So  cut,  so  colour'd,  and  so  curl'd. 

As  those  are  in  th'  inferior  world. 

He  'ad  read  Dee's  prefaces  before  235 

The  Dev'l,  and  Euclid,  o'er  and  o'er  ; 


V.  224.  Eoger  Bacon,  commonly  called  'Friar  Bacon,' 
lived  in  the  reigu  of  our  Edward  L,  and,  for  some  little  skill 
lie  had  in  the  mathematics,  was  by  the  rabble  accounted 
a  conjurer,  and  had  the  sottish  story  of  the  Brazen  Head  fa^ 
thered  upon  him  by  the  ignorant  Monks  of  those  days. 

Ih.  Bishop  Grosted  was  Bishop  of  Lincohi,  20th  Henry  in. 
A.  D.  1235.  "  He  was  suspected  by  the  clergy  to  be  a  conju- 
rer; for  which  crime  he  was  deprived  by  Pope  Innocent  IV. 
and  summoned  to  appear  at  Rome."  But  this  is  a  mistake; 
for  the  Pope's  antipathy  to  him  was  occasioned  by  his  frankly 
expostulating  with  him  (both  personallj-  and  by  letter)  on  liis 
encroachments  upon  the  English  church  and  monarchy.  He 
was  persecuted  by  Pope  Innocent,  but  it  is  not  certain  that  he 
was  deprived,  though  Bale  thinks  lie_'fras. 

V.  235.     Dee  was  a  ^yelshman,  and  educated  at  Oxford, 

VOL.   I.  IS 


218  HUDIBKAS. 

And  all  th'  intrigues  'twixt  him  and  KeUy, 

Lascus  and  th'  Emperor,  would  tell  ye  : 

But  with  the  moon  was  more  familiar 

Than  e'er  was  almanack  well-wiUer  ;  240 

Her  secrets  understood  so  clear, 

That  some  believ'd  he  had  been  there ; 

Knew  when  she  was  m  fittest  mood 

For  cutting  corns  or  letting  blood ; 

When  for  anomting  scabs  or  itches,  245 

Or  to  the  bum  applying  leeches  ; 

When  sows  and  bitches  may  be  spay'd, 

And  in  what  sign  best  cyder  's  made ; 

Whether  the  wane  be,  or  increase, 

Best  to  set  garlic  or  sow  pease  ;  250 

Wlio  first  found  out  the  man  i'  th'  moon, 

That  to  the  Ancients  was  unknown  ; 

How  many  Dukes,  and  Earls,  and  Peers, 

Are  in  the  planetary  spheres  ; 

Their  airy  empire,  and  command ;  255 

Their  sev'ral  strengths  by  sea  and  land  ; 

What  factions  they  've,  and  what  they  drive  at 

In  public  vogue,  or  what  in  private  ; 

With  what  designs  and  interests 

Each  party  manages  contests.  260 

He  made  an  instrument  to  know 

J£  the  moon  shine  at  full  or  no ; 

where  he  commenced  Doctor,  and  afterwards  travelled  into 
foreign  parts  in  quest  of  chemistry,  &c. 

V.  238.    Albertus  Lascus,  Lasky,  or  Alasco,  Prince  Palatine 
of  Poland,  concerned  with  Dee  and  Kelly. 


PART   II.      CANTO    III.  219 

That  would,  as  soon  as  e'er  she  shone,  straight 

Whether  'twere  day  or  night  demonstrate  ; 

Tell  what  her  d'ameter  to  an  inch  is,  265 

And  prove  that  she 's  not  made  of  greeen  cheese. 

It  would  demonstrate  that  the  man  in 

The  moon  's  a  sea  Mediterranean  ; 

And  that  it  is  no  dog  nor  bitch 

That  stands  behind  him  at  liis  breech,  270 

But  a  huge  Caspian  sea  or  lake. 

With  arms,  which  men  for  legs  mistake ; 

How  large  a  gulf  his  tail  composes, 

And  what  a  goodly  bay  his  nose  is  ; 

How  many  German  leagues  by  th'  scale  276 

Cape  Snout  's  from  Promontory  Tail. 

He  made  a  planetary  gin, 

Wliich  rats  would  run  their  own  heads  in, 

And  come  on  purpose  to  be  taken. 

Without  th'  expense  of  cheese  or  bacon.  28O 

With  lutestrings  he  would  counterfeit 

Maggots  that  ci'awl  on  dish  of  meat ; 

Quote  moles  and  spots  on  any  place 

O'  th'  body,  by  the  index  face ; 

Detect -^lost  maidenheads  by  sneezing,  286 

Or  breaking  wind  of  dames,  or  pissing ; 

Cure  warts  and  corns  with  appHcation 

Of  med'cines  to  th'  imagination : 

Fright  agues  into  dogs,  and  scare 

With  rhymes  the  toothach  and  catarrh ;  390 

Chase  evil  spirits  away  by  dmt 

Of  sickle,  horse-shoe,  hollow  flint ; 


220  HUDIBRAS. 

Spit  fire  out  of  a  walnut-shell, 

Which  made  the  Roman  slaves  rebel ; 

And  fire  a  mine  in  China  here  29* 

With  sympathetic  gunpowder. 

He  knew  whats'ever  's  to  be  known, 

But  much  more  than  he  knew  would  own. 

What  med'cine  'twas  that  Paracelsus 

Could  make  a  man  with,  as  he  tells  us ;  300 

What  figur'd  slates  are  best  to  make 

On  wat'ry  surface  duck  or  drake ; 

What  bowHng-stones,  in  running  race 

Upon  a  board,  have  swiftest  pace  ; 

Whether  a  pulse  beat  m  the  black  805 

List  of  a  dappled  louse's  back ; 

K  systole  or  diastole  move 

Quickest  when  he  's  m  wrath,  or  love ; 

When  two  of  them  do  run  a  race, 

Whether  they  gallop,  trot,  or  pace  ;  sio 

How  many  scores  a  flea  wUl  jump 

Of  his  own  length  from  head  to  rump, 

Which  Socrates  and  Choerephon 

In  vain  assa/d  so  long  agone ; 

Whether  his  snout  a  perfect  nose  is,  ais 

And  not  an  elephant's  proboscis ; 

How  many  difi"'rent  specieses 

Of  maggots  breed  in  rotten  cheeses ; 

And  which  are  next  of  kin  to  those 

En«-ender'd  in  a  chandler's  nose  ;  320 

Or  those  not  seen,  but  understood, 

That  Uve  in  vmegar  and  wood. 


PART    II.       CANTO    III.  221 

A  paltry  wretch  he  had,  half-starv'dj 
That  him  in  place  of  zany  serv'd, 
Hight  Whachum,  bred  to  dash  and  draw,  326 

Not  wine,  but  more  unwholesome  law  ; 
To  make  'twixt  words  and  lines  huge  gaps. 
Wide  as  meridians  in  maps  ; 
To  squander  paper  and  spare  ink, 
Or  cheat  men  of  their  words,  some  think.  330 

From  this,  by  merited  degrees. 
He  'd  to  more  high  advancement  rise, 
To  be  an  under  conjurer, 
Or  journeyman  astrologer : 

His  bus'ness  was  to  pump  and  wheedle,  335 

And  men  with  their  own  keys  unriddle ; 
To  make  them  to  themselves  give  answers, 
For  which  they  pay  the  necromancers ; 
To  fetch  and  carry'  intelligence 
Of  whom,  and  what,  and  where,  and  whence,  S40 
And  all  discoveries  disperse 
Among  th'  whole  pack  of  conjurers  ; 
What  cut-purses  have  left  with  them 
For  the  right  o\vners  to  redeem. 
And  what  they  dare  not  vent,  find  out,  «46 

To  gain  themselves  and  th'  art  repute ; 


V.  325.  '  Whachum,'  joiimeymaii  to  Sidrophel,  who  was 
one  '  Tom  Jones, '  a  foohsh  Welshman.  In  a  key  to  a  poem  of 
Mr.  Butler's,  Whachum  is  said  to  be  one '  Richard  Green,'  who 
published  a  pamphlet  of  about  five  sheets  of  b.ase  ribaldry, 
and  called  '  Hudibras  in  a  snare.'  It  was  printed  about  the 
year  1667. 


222  HUDIBRAS. 

Draw  figures,  and  schemes,  and  horoscopes, 

Of  Newgate,  Bridewell,  brokers'  shops, 

Of  thieves  ascendant  in  the  cart, 

And  find  out  aU  by  rules  of  art :  S60 

Wliich  way  a  serving-man,  that 's  run 

"With  clothes  or  money  away,  is  gone ; 

Who  pick'd  a  fob  at  Holding-forth, 

And  where  a  watch  for  half  the  worth 

May  be  redeem'd ;  or  stolen  plate  856 

Restor'd  at  conscionable  rate. 

Beside  aU  this  he  serv'd  his  master 

In  quahty  of  poetaster. 

And  rhymes  appropriate  could  make 

To  ev'ry  month  i'  th'  almanack ;  360 

When  terms  begin  and  end  could  tell, 

With  their  returns,  in  doggerel ; 

When  the  Exchequer  opes  and  shuts, 

And  sow-gelder  with  safety  cuts  ; 

WTien  men  may  eat  and  drink  their  fill,  366 

And  when  be  temp'rate  if  they  will ; 

When  use,  and  when  abstain  from,  vice, 

Figs,  grapes,  phlebotomy,  and  spice. 

And  as  in  prison  mean  rogues  beat 

Hemp  for  the  service  of  the  great,  370 

So  Whachum  beat  his  dirty  brains 

T'  advance  his  master's  fame  and  gains ; 

And,  hke  the  devil's  oracles. 

Put  into  dogg'rel  rhymes  his  spells. 

Which,  over  ev'ry  month's  blank  page  375 

r  th'  almanack,  strange  bilks  presage. 


PART    II.       CANTO    III.  223 

He  would  an  elegy  compose 

On  maggots  squeez'd  out  of  his  nose  ; 

In  lyric  numbers  write  an  ode  on 

His  mistress  eating  a  black  pudden  ;  sso 

And  when  imprison'd  air  escap'd  her, 

It  puft  him  with  poetic  rapture  : 

His  sonnets  charm'd  th'  attentive  crowd, 

By  wide-mouth'd  mortal  troU'd  aloud, 

That,  circled  with  his  long-ear'd  guests,  385 

Like  Orpheus  look'd  among  the  beasts  : 

A  carman's  horse  could  not  pass  by, 

But  stood  ty'd  up  to  poetry ; 

No  porter's  burthen  pass'd  along. 

But  serv'd  for  burthen  to  his  song  :  390 

Each  window  like  a  pill'ry  appears. 

With  heads  thrust  through,  nail'd  by  the  ears ; 

All  trades  run  in  as  to  the  sight 

Of  monsters,  or  their  dear  dehght 

The  gallow-tree,  when  cutting  purse  395 

Breeds  bus'ness  for  heroic  verse. 

Which  none  does  hear  but  would  have  hung 

T'  have  been  the  theme  of  such  a  song. 

Those  two  together  long  had  hv'd 
In  mansion  prudently  contriv'd,  400 

Where  neither  tree  nor  house  could  bar 
The  free  detection  of  a  star ; 
And  nigh  an  ancient  obelisk 
Was  rais'd  by  him,  found  out  by  Fisk, 

V.  404.    Mr.  Butler  alludes  to  one  '  Fisk,'  of  -whom  Lilly 
observes,  that  he  was  a  Ucentiate  in  physic,  and  born  near 


224  HUDIBRAS. 

On  which  was  written,  not  in  words,  405 

But  hieroglyphic  mute  of  birds, 

Many  rare  pithy  saws  concerning 

The  worth  of  astrologic  learning : 

From  top  of  this  there  hung  a  rope, 

To  which  he  fasten'd  telescope,  4io 

The  spectacles  with  which  the  stars 

He  reads  in  smallest  characters. 

It  happen'd  as  a  boy  one  night 

Did  fly  his  tarsel  of  a  kite, 

The  strangest  long-wing'd  hawk  that  flies,         4i5 

That,  hke  a  bird  of  Paradise, 

Or  herald's  martlet,  has  no  legs, 

Nor  hatches  young  ones,  nor  lays  eggs ; 

His  train  was  six  yards  long,  milk-white. 

At  th'  end  of  which  there  hung  a  light,  420 

Enclos'd  m  lantern  made  of  paper. 

That  far  off  like  a  star  did  appear : 

This  Sidrophel  by  chance  espy'd, 

And,  with  amazement  staring  wide. 

Bless  us  !  quoth  he,  what  dreadful  wonder        425 

Is  that  appears  in  heaven  yonder  ? 

A  comet,  and  without  a  beard ! 

Or  star  that  ne'er  before  appear'd  ? 

I'm  certain  'tis  not  in  the  scrowl 


Framlingham  in  Suffolk ;  was  bred  at  a  country-school,  and 
designed  for  the  university,  but  went  not  thither,  studjang 
physic  and  astrology  at  home,  which  afterwards  he  practised 
at  Colchester;  after  which  he  came  to  London,  and  practised 
there. 


PART    II.       CANTO    III.  225 

Of  all  those  beasts,  and  fisli,  and  fowl,  430 

With  which,  like  Indian  plantations, 

The  learned  stock  the  constellations  ; 

Nor  those  that  drawn  for  signs  have  bia 

To  th'  houses  where  the  planets  inn. 

It  must  be  supernatural,  435 

Unless  it  be  that  cannon-ball 

That,  shot  i'  th'  air  point-blank  upright, 

"Was  borne  to  that  prodigious  height 

Thatrlearn'd  philosophers  maintain, 

It  ne'er  came  backwards  do^vn  again,  440 

But  in  the  airy  region  yet 

Hangs,  hke  the  body  of  Mahomet : 

For  if  it  be  above  the  shade 

That  by  the  earth's  round  bulk  is  made, 

'Tis  probable  it  may  from  far  445 

Appear  no  bullet,  but  a  star. 

This  said,  he  to  his  engine  flew, 
Plac'd  near  at  hand,  in  open  view. 
And  rais'd  it  till  it  levell'd  right 
Against  the  glow-worm  tail  of  kite,  450 

Then  peeping  through,  Bless  us  !   (quoth  he) 
It  is  a  planet  now,  I  see ; 
And,  if  I  err  not,  by  his  proper 
Figure,  that  's  like  tobacco-stopper. 
It  ^ould  be  Saturn  :  yes,  'tis  clear  456 

'Tis  Saturn,  but  what  makes  him  there  ? 
He  's  got  between  the  Dragon's  tail 
And  farther  leg  behind  o'  th'  Whale ; 
Pray  Heav'n  divert  the  fatal  omen, 


226  HUDIBRAS. 

For  'tis  a  pi-odigy  not  common,  460 

And  can  no  less  than  the  world's  end, 

Or  Nature's  funeral,  portend. 

"With  that  he  fell  agahi  to  pry 

Through  perspective  more  wistfully. 

When,  by  mischance,  the  fatal  string,  465 

That  kept  the  tow'ring  fowl  on  wing. 

Breaking,  down  fell  the  star.     Well  shot. 

Quoth  Whachum,  who  right  wisely  thought 

He  'ad  levell'd  at  a  star,  and  hit  it ; 

But  Sidrophel,  more  subtil-witted,  470 

Cry'd  out.  What  horrible  and  fearful 

Portent  is  this,  to  see  a  star  fall ! 

It  threatens  Nature,  and  the  doom 

Will  not  be  long  before  it  come  ! 

When  stars  do  fall,  'tis  plain  enough  478 

The  day  of  judgment  's  not  far  off; 

As  lately  'twas  reveal'd  to  Sedgwick, 

And  some  of  us  find  out  by  magic : 


V.  477.  William  Sedgwick,  a  whimsical  enthusiast,  some- 
times a  Presbyterian,  sometimes  an  Independent,  and  at  other 
times  an  Anabaptist ;  sometimes  a  prophet,  and  pretended  to 
foretell  things,  out  of  the  pulpit,  to  the  destruction  of  ignorant 
people;  at  other  times  pretended  to  revelations;  and,  iipon 
pretence  of  a  vision  that  Doomsday  was  at  hand,  he  retired  to 
the  house  of  Sir  Francis  Russel,  in  Cambridgeshire ;  and  find- 
ing several  gentlemen  at  bowls,  called  upon  them  to  prepare 
for  their  dissolution ;  telling  them  that  he  had  lately  received 
a  revelation  that  Doomsday  would  be  some  day  the  week  fol- 
lowing. Upon  which  they  ever  after  called  him  '  Doomsday 
Sedgwick.' 


PAKT    II.      CANTO    III.  227 

Then  since  the  time  we  have  to  live 

In  this  world  's  shorten'd,  let  us  strive  480 

To  make  our  best  advantage  of  it, 

And  pay  our  losses  with  our  profit. 

This  feat  fell  out  not  long  before 
The  Knight,  upon  the  forenam'd  score, 
In  quest  of  Sidrophel  advancing,  485 

Was  now  in  prospect  of  the  mansion  ; 
Whom  he  discov'ring,  turn'd  his  glass, 
And  found  far  off  'twas  Hudibras. 

Wliachum  (quoth  he),  look  yonder,  some 
To  try  or  use  our  art  are  come :  490 

The  one  's  the  learned  Knight ;  seek  out. 
And  pump  'em  what  they  come  about. 
Whachum  advanc'd  with  all  submiss'ness 
T'  accost  'em,  but  much  more  their  bus'ness : 
He  held  a  stirrup,  while  the  Knight  495 

From  leathern  Bare-bones  did  alight ; 
And  taking  from  his  hand  the  bridle, 
Approach'd,  the  dark  Squire  to  unriddle. 
He  gave  him  first  the  time  o'  the  day. 
And  welcom'd  him  as  he  might  say  :  500 

He  ask'd  him  whence  they  came,  and  whither 
Their  bus'ness  lay  ?  —  Quoth  Ralpho,  Hither.  — 
Did  you  not  lose — Quoth  Ralpho,  Nay  — 
Quoth  Whachum,  Sir,  I  meant  your  way. 
Your  knight  —  Quoth  Ralpho,  is  a  lover,  sos 

And  pains  intol'rable  doth  suffer ; 
For  lovers'  hearts  are  not  their  own  hearts, 
Nor  lights,  nor  lungs,  and  so  forth  downwards. — • 


228  HUDIBRAS. 

"What  time  —  Quoth  Ralpho,  Sir,  too  long  ; 

Three  years  it  off  and  on  has  hung. —  6io 

Quoth  he,  I  meant  what  time  o'  th'  day  'tis. — 

Quoth  Ralpho,  Between  seven  and  eight  'tis.  — 

Why  then  (quoth  Wliachum)  my  small  art 

Tells  me  the  dame  has  a  hard  heart, 

Or  great  estate.  —  Quoth  Ralph,  A  jointer,       515 

"Which  makes  him  have  so  hot  a  mind  t'  her.  — 

Meanwhile  the  Knight  was  making  water, 

Before  he  fell  upon  the  matter  ; 

Which  having  done,  the  Wizard  steps  in, 

To  give  him  suitable  reception  ;  520 

But  kept  his  bus'ness  at  a  bay. 

Till  Whachum  put  him  in  the  way  ; 

Who  having  now,  by  Ralpho's  light. 

Expounded  th'  errand  of  the  Knight, 

And  what  he  came  to  know,  drew  near,  '525 

To  whisper  in  the  conj'rer's  ear, 

Which  he  prevented  thus :  what  was  't, 

Quoth  he,  that  I  was  saying  last. 

Before  these  gentlemen  arriv'd  ? 

Quoth  Whachum,  Venus  you  retriev'd,  530 

In  opposition  with  Mars, 

And  no  benign  and  friendly  stars 

T'  allay  the  effect.     Quoth  Wizard,  So ! 

In  Virgo  ?  Ha !  quoth  Whachum,  No. 

Has  Saturn  nothing  to  do  in  it  ?  535 

One  tenth  of  's  circle  to  a  minute. 

'Tis  well,  quoth  he.  —  Sir,  j^ou'U  excuse 

This  rudeness  I  am  fore'd  to  use ; 


PART   II.      CAJ^TO    III.  229 

It  is  a  scheme  and  face  of  heaven, 

As  th'  aspects  are  dispos'd  this  even,  540 

I  was  contemplating  upon 

"When  you  arriv'd ;  but  now  I've  done. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  if  I  appear 
Unseasonable  in  coming  here 
At  such  a  time,  to  interrupt  545 

Your  speculations,  which  I  hoj)'d 
Assistance  from,  and  come  to  use, 
'Tis  fit  that  I  ask  your  excuse. 

By  no  means,  Sir,  quoth  Sidrophel, 
The  stars  your  coming  did  foretell ;  550 

I  did  expect  you  here,  and  knew. 
Before  you  spake,  your  bus'ness  too. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  Make  that  appear, 
And  I  shall  credit  whatsoe'er 
You  tell  me  after,  on  your  word,  555 

Howe'er  unlikely  or  absurd. 

You  are  in  love,  Sir,  with  a  widow. 
Quoth  he,  that  does  not  greatly  heed  you, 
And  for  three  years  has  rid  your  wit 
And  passion  without  dramng  bit ;  56o 

And  now  your  bus'ness  is  to  know 
If  you  shall  carry  her  or  no. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  You  're  in  the  right, 
But  how  the  devil  you  come  by  't 
I  can't  imagine  ;  for  the  stars  66S 

I  'm  sure  can  tell  no  more  than  a  horse ; 
Nor  can  their  aspects  (though  you  pore 
Your  eyes  out  on  them)  tell  you  more 


230  HUDIBUAS. 

Than  th'  oracle  of  sieve  and  sheers 

That  turns  as  certain  as  the  spheres :  570 

But  if  the  devil  's  of  your  counsel 

Much  may  be  done,  my  noble  Donzel ; 

And  'tis  on  his  account  I  come, 

To  know  from  you  my  fatal  doom. 

Quoth  Sidrophel,  If  you  suppose,  575 

Sir  Knight,  that  I  am  one  of  those, 
I  might  suspect,  and  take  th'  alarm. 
Your  bus'ness  is  but  to  inform ; 
But  if  it  be,  'tis  ne'er  the  near. 
You  liave  a  wrong  sow  by  the  ear ;  sao 

For  I  assui-e  you,  for  my  part, 
I  only  deal  by  rules  of  art. 
Such  as  are  lawful,  and  judge  by 
Conclusions  of  astrology ; 

But  for  the  devil  know  nothing  by  him,  585 

But  only  this,  that  I  defy  him. 

Quoth  he.  Whatever  others  deem  ye, 
I  understand  your  metonymy  ; 
Your  words  of  second-hand  intention. 
When  things  by  wrongful  names  you  mention ;  590 
The  mystic  sense  of  all  your  terms, 
That  are  indeed  but  magic  charms 
To  raise  the  devil,  and  mean  one  thing. 
And  that  is  downright  conjuring ; 
And  in  itself  more  warrantable  696 

Than  cheat,  or  canting  to  a  rabble, 
Or  putting  tricks  upon  the  moon. 
Which  by  confed'racy  are  done. 


PART    II.       CANTO    III.  231 

Your  ancient  conjurers  were  wont 

To  make  her  from  her  sphere  dismount,  600 

And  to  their  incantations  stoop  ; 

They  scorn'd  to  pore  through  telescope, 

Or  idly  play  at  bo-peep  with  her, 

To  find  out  cloudy  or  fair  weather, 

Which  ev'ry  almanack  can  tell  605 

Perhaps  as  learnedly  and  well 

As  you  yourself     Then,  friend,  I  doubt 

You  go  the  farthest  way  about. 

Your  modern  Indian  magician 

Makes  but  a  hole  in  th'  earth  to  piss  in,  eio 

And  straight  resolves  all  questions  by  't, 

And  seldom  fails  to  be  i'  th'  right. 

The  Rosy  crucian  way  's  more  sure 

To  bring  the  devil  to  the  lure ; 

Each  of  'em  has  a  sev'ral  gin  eis 

To  catch  intelligences  in. 

Some  by  the  nose  with  fumes  trepan  'em, 

As  Dunstan  did  the  devil's  grannam ; 

Others  with  characters  and  words 

Catch  'em,  as  men  in  nets  do  birds ;  620 

And  some  with  symbols,  signs,  and  tricks, 

Engrav'd  in  planetary  nicks. 

With  their  own  influences  will  fetch  'em 

V.  618.  St.  Dunstan  was  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
anno  961.  His  skill  in  the  liberal  arts  and  sciences  (qualifica- 
tions much  above  the  genius  of  the  age  he  lived  in)  gained 
him  first  the  name  of  a  Conjurer,  and  then  of  a  Saint :  he  is 
revered  as  such  by  the  Eomanists,  who  keep  a  holiday  in 
honour  of  him  yearly,  on  the  19th  of  May. 


232  HUDIBKAS. 

Down  from  their  orbs,  arrest,  and  catcli  'em : 

Make  'em  depose  and  answer  to  euo 

All  questiorfs  ere  they  let  them  go. 

Bumbastus  kept  a  devil's  bird 

Shut  in  the  pummel  of  his  sword, 

That  taught  him  all  the  cunning  pranks 

Of  past  and  future  mountebanks.  eso 

Kelly  did  all  his  feats  upon 

The  devil's  looking-glass,  a  stone, 

Where,  playing  with  him  at  bo-peep. 

He  solv'd  all  problems,  ne'er  so  deep. 

Agrippa  kept  a  Stygian  pug  635 

r  th'  garb  and  habit  of  a  dog. 

That  was  his  tutor,  and  the  cur 

Read  to  th'  occult  philosopher, 

And  taught  him  subt'ly  to  maintain 

All  other  sciences  are  vain.  640 

To  this  quoth  SidropheUo,  Sir, 
Agrippa  was  no  conjurer, 

V.  631.  This  Kelly  was  chief  seer,  or,  as  Lilly  calls  him,' 
Speculator,  to  Dr.  Dee;  was  bom  at  Worcester,  and  bred  an 
apothecary,  and  was  a  good  proficient  in  chemistry,  and  pre- 
tended to  have  the  grand  elixir,  or  philosopher's  stone,  which 
Lilly  tells  us  he  made,  or  at  least  received  ready  made  from  a 
Friar  in  Germany,  on  the  confines  of  the  Emperor's  dominions. 
He  pretended  to  see  apparitions  in  a  crystal  or  beryl  looking- 
glass  (or  a  round  stone  like  a  crystal).  Alasco,  Palatine  of 
Poland;  Pucel,  a  learned  Florentine;  and  Prince  Rosemberg 
of  Germany,  the  Emperor's  Viceroy  in  Bohemia;  were  long 
of  the  society  with  him  and  Dr.  Dee,  and  often  present  at 
their  apparitions,  as  was  once  the  King  of  Poland  himself. 
But  Lilly  observes  that  he  was  so  wicked  that  the  angels 
would  not  appear  to  him  willingly,  nor  be  obedient  to  him. 


PART    II.       CANTO    III.  233 

Nor  Paracelsus,  no,  nor  Behmen  ; 

Nor  was  the  dog  a  cacodtemon. 

But  a  true  dog,  that  would  shew  tricks  645 

For  th'  Emperor,  and  leap  o'er  sticks ; 

"Would  fetch  and  carry,  was  more  civil 

Than  other  dogs,  but  yet  no  devil ; 

And  whatsoe'er  he  's  said  to  do, 

He  went  the  self-same  way  we  go.  6o0 

As  for  the  Rosycross  philosophers, 

"Whom  you  will  have  to  be  but  sorcerers, 

"Wliat  they  pretend  to  is  no  more 

Than  Trismegistus  did  before, 

Pythagoras,  old  Zoroaster,  63S 

And  Apollonius  their  master, 

To  whom  they  do  confess  they  owe 

All  that  they  do,  and  all  they  know. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  Alas  !  what  is  't  t'  us 
"Whether  'twas  said  by  Trismegistus,  660 

If  it  be  nonsense,  false,  or  mystic. 
Or  not  intelligible,  or  sophistic  ? 
'Tis  not  antiquity,  nor  author, 
That  makes  truth  Truth,  although  Time's  daughter; 
'Twas  he  that  put  her  in  the  pit  665 

Before  he  pull'd  her  out  of  it ; 
And  as  he  eats  his  sons,  just  so 
He  feeds  upon  his  daughters  too. 
Nor  does  it  follow,  'cause  a  herald 
Can  make  a  gentleman,  scarce  a  year  old,         67o 

V.  669,  6V0.     Such  gently  were  Thomas  Pury,  the  elder, 
first  a  weaver  in  Gloucester,  tlien  au  ignorant  solicitor;    John 

VOL.    I.  19 


234  HUDIBRAS. 

To  be  descended  of  a  race 
Of  ancient  kings  in  a  small  space, 
That  we  should  aU  opinions  hold 
Authentic  that  we  can  make  old. 

Quoth  Sidrophel,  it  is  no  part  aia 

Of  prudence  to  cry  down  an  art, 
And  what  it  may  perform  deny 
Because  you  understand  not  why 
(As  Averrhois  play'd  but  a  mean  trick 
To  damn  our  whole  art  for  eccentric)  ;  eso 

For  who  knows  all  that  knowledge  contains  ? 
Men  dwell  not  on  the  tops  of  mountains. 
But  on  their  sides  or  rising's  seat ; 
So  'tis  with  knowledge's  vast  height. 
Do  not  the  hist'ries  of  all  ages  685 

Relate  miraculous  presages 
Of  strange  turns  in  the  world's  affairs 
Foreseen  b'  astrologers,  soothsayers, 
Chaldeans,  learn'd  Genethliacks, 
And  some  that  have  writ  almanacks  ?  eoo 

The  Median  Emp'ror  dream'd  his  daughter 

Blackston,  a  poor  shopkeeper  of  Newcastle ;  John  Birch,  for- 
merly a  can-ier,  afterwards  Colonel;  Richai-d  Salway,  Colonel, 
formerly  a  grocer's  man;  Thomas  Rainsborough,  a  skipper  of 
Lynn,  Colonel  and  Vice- Admiral  of  England;  Colonel  Thomas 
Scot,  a  brewer's  clerk ;  Colonel  Philip  Skippon,  originally  a 
waggoner  to  Sir  Francis  Vere ;  Colonel  John  Jones,  a  serving- 
man  ;  Colonel  Barkstead,  a  pitiful  tliimble  and  bodkin  gold- 
smith; Colonel  Pride,  a  foundling  and  drayman;  Colonel 
Hewson,  a  one-eyed  cobbler;  and  Colonel  Harrison,  a  butcher. 
These  and  hundreds  more  affected  to  be  thought  gentlemen, 
and  lorded  it  over  persons  of  the  first  rank  and  quality. 


PART   II.      CANTO   III.  235 

Had  piss'd  all  Asia  under  water, 

And  that  a  vine,  sprung  from  her  haunches, 

O'erspread  his  empire  with  its  branches ; 

And  did  not  soothsayers  expound  it  695 

As  after  by  th'  event  he  found  it  ? 

When  CiBsar  in  the  senate  fell. 

Did  not  the  sun  eclips'd  foretell, 

And  in  i-esentment  of  his  slaughter 

Look'd  pale  for  almost  a  year  after  ?  700 

Augustus  having,  by'  oversight, 

Put  on  his  left  shoe  'fore  his  right. 

Had  like  to  have  been  slain  that  day 

By  soldiers  mutin'ing  for  pay. 

Are  there  not  myriads  of  this  sort  709 

Which  stories  of  all  times  report  ? 

Is  it  not  ominous  in  all  countries 

When  crows  and  ravens  croak  upon  trees  ? 

The  Roman  senate,  when  within 

The  city  walls  an  owl  was  seen,  710 

Did  cause  their  clergy,  with  lustrations 

(Our  Synod  calls  Humiliations), 

The  round-fac'd  prodigy  t'  avert 

From  doing  town  or  country  hurt. 

And  if  an  owl  have  so  ipuch  pow'r.  715 

Wliy  should  not  planets  have  much  more, 

That  in  a  region  far  above 

Inferior  fowls  of  the  air  move. 

And  should  see  further,  and  foreknow 

More  than  their  augury  below  ?  720 

Though  that  once  serv'd  the  polity 


236  HUDIBRAS. 

Of  mighty  states  to  govern  by  ; 

And  this  is  what  we  take  in  hand 

By  pow'rful  art  to  understand ; 

Which  how  we  have  perform'd  all  ages  736 

Can  speak  th'  events  of  our  presages. 

Have  we  not  lately  in  the  moon 

Found  a  new  world,  to  th'  old  unknown  ? 

Discover'd  sea  and  land  Columbus 

And  Magellan  could  never  compass  ?  730 

Made  mountains  with  our  tubes  appear, 

And  cattle  grazing  on  'em  there  ? 

Quoth  Hudibras,  You  lie  so  ope 
That  I,  without  a  telescope 

Can  find  your  tricks  out,  and  descry  786 

"Where  you  tell  truth  and  where  you  lye : 
For  Anaxagoras,  long  agon, 
Saw  hills,  as  well  as  you,  i'  th'  moon, 
And  held  the  sun  was  but  a  piece 
Of  red-hot  ir'n  as  big  as  Greece ;  740 

Behev'd  the  heav'ns  were  made  of  stone, 
Because  the  sun  had  voided  one ; 
And,  rather  than  he  would  recant 
Th'  opinion,  suffer'd  banishment. 

But  what,  alas  !  is  it  to  us  745 

Whether  i'  th'  moon  men  thus  or  thus 
Do  eat  their  porridge,  cut  their  corns. 
Or  whether  they  have  tails  or  horns  ? 
Wliat  trade  from  thence  can  you  advance 
But  what  we  nearer  have  from  France  ?  750 

Wh&i  can  our  travellers  bring  home 


PART   II.      CANTO    III.  237 

That  is  not  to  be  learnt  at  Rome  ? 

What  politics  or  strange  opinions 

That  are  not  in  our  own  dominions  ? 

What  science  can  he  brought  from  thence  755 

Li  which  we  do  not  here  commence  ? 

What  revelations  or  religions 

That  are  not  in  our  native  regions  ? 

Are  sweatmg-lanterns  or  screen-fans 

Made  better  there  than  th'  are  m  France  ?        760 

Or  do  they  teach  to  sing  and  play 

O'  th'  guitar  there  a  newer  way  ? 

Can  they  make  plays  there  that  shall  fit 

The  public  humour  with  less  wit ; 

Write  wittier  dances,  quamter  shows,  766 

Or  fight  with  more  ingenious  blows  ? 

Or  does  the  man  i'  th'  moon  look  big, 

And  wear  a  huger  periwig  ? 

Shew  in  his  gate  or  face  more  tricks 

Than  our  own  native  lunatics  ?  770 

But  if  w'  outdo  him  here  at  home. 

What  good  of  your  design  can  come  ? 

As  wind  i'  th'  hypocondres  pent 

Is  but  a  blast  if  downward  sent. 

But  if  it  upward  chance  to  fly  776 

Becomes  new  hght  and  prophecy  ; 

So  when  your  speculations  tend 

Above  their  just  and  useful  end, 

Although  they  promise  strange  and  great 

Discoveries  of  things  far  fet,  780 

They  are  but  idle  dreams  and  fancies. 


238 


HUDIBRAS. 


And  savour  strongly  of  the  ganzas. 

Tell  me  but  what 's  the  natural  cause 

Why  on  a  sign  no  painter  draws 

The  full-moon  ever,  but  the  half?  786 

Resolve  that  with  your  Jacob's  staflP; 

Or  why  wolves  raise  a  hubbub  at  her, 

And  dogs  howl  when  she  shines  in  water  ? 

And  I  shall  freely  give  my  vote 

You  may  know  something  more  remote.  790 

At  this  deep  Sidrophel  look'd  wise, 
And,  starmg  round  with  owl-like  eyes. 
He  put  his  face  into  a  posture 
Of  sapience,  and  began  to  bluster ; 
For  having  three  times  shook  his  head,  79s 

To  stir  his  wit  up,  thus  he  said : 
Art  has  no  mortal  enemies 
Next  ignorance,  but  owls  and  geese ; 
Those  consecrated  geese  in  orders 
That  to  the  capitol  were  warders,  soo 

And,  bemg  then  upon  patrol. 
With  noise  alone  beat  off  the  Gaul, 
Or  those  Athenian  sceptic  owls 
That  will  not  credit  their  own  souls, 
Or  any  science  understand  sos 

Beyond  the  reach  of  eye  or  hand, 
But,  meas'ring  all  things  by  their  own 
Knowledge,  hold  nothing  's  to  be  known ; 
Those  wholesale  critics,  that  in  coffee- 
Houses  cry  down  all  philosophy,  sio 

And  will  not  know  upon  what  ground 


PAKT   II.      CANTO    III.  239 

In  Nature  we  our  doctrine  found, 

Although  with  pi-egnant  evidence 

We  can  demonstrate  it  to  sense, 

As  I  just  now  have  done  to  you,  eie 

Foretelling  what  you  came  to  know. 

"Were  the  stars  only  made  to  light 

Robbers  and  burglarers  by  night  ? 

To  wait  on  drunkards,  thieves,  gold-finders, 

And  lovers  solacing  behind  doors,  sao 

Or  giving  one  another  pledges 

Of  matrimony  under  hedges  ? 

Or  witches  simpling,  and  on  gibbets 

Cutting  from  malefactors  snippets. 

Or  from  the  pill'ry  tips  of  ears  623 

Of  rebel  saints  and  perjurers  ? 

Only  to  stand  by  and  look  on. 

But  not  know  what  is  said  or  done  ? 

Is  there  a  constellation  there 

That  was  not  born  and  bred  up  here,  830 

And  therefore  cannot  be  to  learn 

In  any  inferior  concern  ? 

Were  they  not,  during  all  their  lives. 

Most  of  them  pirates,  whores,  and  thieves  ? 

And  is  it  like  they  have  not  still  S33 

In  their  old  practices  some  skill  ? 

Is  there  a  planet  that  by  birth 

Does  not  derive  its  house  from  earth, 

And  therefore  probably  must  know 

What  is  and  hath  been  done  below  ?  640 

Who  made  the  Balance,  or  whence  came 


240  HUBIBRAS. 

The  Bull,  the  Lion,  and  the  Ram  ? 

Did  not  we  here  the  Argo  rig, 

Make  Berenice's  periwig  ? 

Whose  liv'ry  does  the  Coachman  wear  ?  84S 

Or  who  made  Cassiopeia's  chair  ? 

And  therefore,  as  they  came  from  hence, 

With  us  may  hold  intelligence. 

Plato  deny'd  the  world  can  be 

Govern'd  without  geometiy  850 

(For  money  b'ing  the  common  scale 

Of  things  by  measure,  weight,  and  tale, 

Li  all  th'  affairs  of  church  and  state 

'Tis  both  the  balance  and  the  weight)  ; 

Then  much  less  can  it  be  without  855 

Divine  astrology  made  out. 

That  puts  the  other  down  in  worth 

As  far  as  heaven  's  above  the  earth. 

These  reasons  (quoth  the  knight)  I  grant 
Are  something  more  significant  seo 

Than  any  that  the  learned  use 
Upon  this  subject  to  pi'oduce  ; 
And  yet  th'  are  far  from  satisfactory 
T'  establish  and  keep  up  your  factory. 
Th'  Egyptians  say,  the  sun  has  twice  sea 

Shifted  his  setting  and  his  rise  ; 
Twice  has  he  risen  in  the  west. 
As  many  times  set  in  the  east : 
But  whether  that  be  true  or  no 
The  devil  any  of  you  know.  870 

Some  hold  the  heavens,  like  a  top, 


PART   II.      CANTO   III.  241 

Are  kept  by  circulation  up, 

And,  were  't  not  for  their  wheeling  round, 

They  'd  instantly  fall  to  the  ground ; 

As  sage  Empedocles  of  old,  -  875 

And,  from  him,  modern  authors  hold. 

Plato  believ'd  the  sun  and  moon 

Below  all  other  planets  run. 

Some  Mercury,  some  Venus,  seat 

Above  the  sun  himself  in  height.  sso 

The  learned  Scaliger  complain'd, 

'Gainst  what  Copernicus  maintain'd. 

That,  in  twelve  hundred  years  and  odd, 

The  sun  had  left  its  ancient  road, 

And  nearer  to  the  earth  is  come  ess 

'Bove  fifty  thousand  miles  from  home  ; 

Swore  'twas  a  most  notorious  flam, 

And  he  that  had  so  little  shame 

To  vent  such  fopperies  abroad 

Deserv'd  to  have  his  rump  well  claw'd ;  sso 

Which  Monsieur  Bodin  hearing,  swore 

That  he  deserv'd  the  rod  much  more 

That  durst  upon  a  truth  give  doom 

He  knew  less  than  the  Pope  of  Rome. 

Cardan  believ'd  great  states  depend  89& 

Upon  the  tip  0'  th'  Bear's  tail's  end, 

That,  as  she  whisk'd  it  t'wards  the  sun, 

Strew'd  mighty  empires  up  and  down ; 

V.  873.     Var.  '  Aiid,  'twere  not.' 

V.  894.    Var.  '  He  kiiew  no  more,'  &c. 


242  HUDIBRAS. 

Which  others  say  must  needs  be  false, 

Because  your  true  bears  have  no  tails.  900 

Some  say  the  Zodiac  constellations 

Have  long  since  chang'd  their  antique  stations 

Above  a  sign,  and  prove  the  same 

In  Taurus  now,  once  in  the  Ram ; 

Affirm  the  Trigons  chopp'd  and  chang'd,  905 

The  wat'ry  with  the  fiery  rang'd : 

Then  how  can  their  effects  still  hold 

To  be  the  same  they  were  of  old  ? 

This,  though  the  art  were  true,  would  make 

Our  modern  soothsayers  mistake,  9io 

And  is  one  cause  they  tell  more  lies 

In  figures  and  nativities 

Than  th'  old  Chaldean  conjurers 

In  so  many  hundred  thousand  years ; 

Beside  their  nonsense  in  translating,  9i6 

For  want  of  Accidence  and  Latin, 

Like  Idus  and  Calendte,  Englisht 

The  Quarter-days  by  skilful  linguist : 

And  yet  with  canting,  sleight,  and  cheat, 

'Twill  serve  their  turn  to  do  the  feat ;  9ao 

Make  fools  believe  in  their  foreseeing 

Of  things  before  they  are  in  being ; 

To  swallow  gudgeons  ere  they  're  catch'd. 

And  count  their  chickens  ere  they  're  hatch'd  ; 

V.  901.    Var.  '  Some  say  the  stars  i'  th'  Zodiac^ 

Are  more  than  a  whole  sign  gone  back 
Smce  Ptolemy;  and  prove  the  same 
In  Taurus  now,  then  m  the  Kam.' 


PART    II.       CANTO    III.  243 

Make  tliem  the  constellations  prompt,  925 

And  give  them  back  their  own  accompt ; 

But  still  the  best  to  him  that  gives 

The  best  price  for  't,  or  best  believes. 

Some  towns,  some  cities,  some,  for  brevity, 

Have  cast  the  versal  world's  nativity,  930 

And  made  the  infant-stars  confess, 

Like  fools  or  children,  what  they  please. 

Some  calculate  the  hidden  fates 

Of  monkeys,  puppy-dogs,  and  cats ; 

Some  running-nags  and  fighting-cocks  ;  gss 

Some  love,  trade,  law-suits,  and  the  pox ; 

Some  take  a  measure  of  the  lives 

Of  fathers,  mothers,  husbands,  wives, 

Make  opposition,  trine,  and  quartile, 

Tell  who  is  barren  and  who  fertile.  940 

As  if  the  planet's  first  aspect 

The  tender  infant  did  infect 

In  soul  and  body,  and  instill 

All  future  good  and  future  ill ; 

Which,  in  their  dark  fatal'ties  lurking,  945 

At  destin'd  periods  fall  a-working. 

And  break  out,  like  the  hidden  seeds 

Of  long  diseases,  into  deeds. 

In  friendships,  enmities,  and  strife, 

And  all  th'  emergencies  of  life :  950 

No  sooner  does  he  peep  into 

The  world  but  he  has  done  his  do, 

Catch'd  all  diseases,  took  all  physic 

That  cures  or  kills  a  man  that  is  sick, 


244  HUBIBRAS. 

Marry 'd  his  punctual  dose  of  Avives,  956 

Is  cuckolded,  and  breaks  or  thrives. 

There 's  but  the  twinkling  of  a  star 

Between  a  man  of  peace  and  war, 

A  thief  and  justice,  fool  and  knave, 

A  huffing  officer  and  a  slave,  960 

A  crafty  lawyer  and  pick-pocket, 

A  great  philosojjher  and  a  blockhead, 

A  formal  preacher  and  a  player, 

A  learn'd  physician  and  man-slayer ; 

As  if  men  from  the  stars  did  suck  965 

Old  age,  diseases,  and  ill-luck, 

"Wit,  folly,  honour,  virtue,  vice. 

Trade,  travel,  women,  claps,  and  dice, 

Aaid  draw,  with  the  first  air  they  breathe, 

Battle  and  murder,  sudden  death.  970 

Are  not  these  fine  commodities 

To  be  imported  from  the  skies. 

And  vended  here  among  the  rabble 

For  staple  goods  and  warrantable  ? 

Like  money  by  the  Druids  borrow'd,  976 

In  th'  other  world  to  be  restoi-ed. 

Quoth  Sidrophel,  To  let  you  know 
You  wrong  the  art  and  artists  too, 
Since  arguments  are  lost  on  those 
That  do  our  principles  oppose,  380 

I  wiU  (although  I  've  done  't  before) 
Demonstrate  to  your  sense  once  more, 

Y.  956.    Var.  '  Cookolded.' 


PART   II.     CANTO    HI.  245 

And  di-aw  a  figure  that  shall  teU  you 

What  you  perhaps  forget  befell  you, 

By  way  of  horary  inspection,  9S3 

Which  some  account  our  worst  erection. 

With  that  he  circles  draws  and  squares, 

With  ciphers,  astral  characters. 

Then  looks  'em  o'er  to  understand  'em, 

Although  set  down  hab-nab  at  random.  990 

Quoth  he.  This  scheme  of  th'  heavens  set 
Discovers  how  in  fight  you  met 
At  Kingston  with  a  May-pole  idol, 
Ajid  that  y'  were  bang'd  both  back  and  side  well ; 
And,  though  you  overcame  the  Bear,  995 

The  dogs  beat  you  at  Brentford  fail', 
Where  sturdy  butchers  broke  your  noddle, 
And  handled  you  hke  a  fop-doodle. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  I  now  perceive 
You  are  no  couj'rer  :  by  your  leave :  looo 

That  paltry  story  is  untrue, 
And  forg'd  to  cheat  such  gulls  as  you. 

Not  true  !  quoth  he  ;  Howe'er  you  vapour,    . 
I  can  what  I  affii-m  make  appear ; 
Whachum  shall  justify  't  t'  your  face,  1005 

And  prove  he  was  upon  the  place : 
He  play'd  the  saltinbancho's  part, 
Tiansform'd  t'  a  Frenchman  by  my  art; 
He  stole  your  cloak,  and  pick'd  your  pocket, 
Chous'd  and  caldes'd  you  like  a  blockhead,       1010 

V.  1010.    Var.  '  Caldes'd.'    Put  the  fortune-teller  on  him. 


246  HUDIBRAS. 

And  what  you  lost  I  can  produce, 
If  you  deny  it,  here  i'  th'  house. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  I  do  beHeve 
That  argument  's  demonstrative ; 
Ralpho,  bear  witness,  and  go  fetch  us  loie 

A  constable  to  seize  the  wretches : 
For  though  th'  are  both  false  knaves  and  cheats, 
Impostors,  jugglers,  counterfeits, 
I  '11  make  them  serve  for  perpendic'lars 
As  true  as  e'er  were  us'd  by  bricklayers.  1020 

They  're  guilty  by  their  own  confessions, 
Of  felony,  and  at  the  Sessions, 
Upon  the  bench,  I  will  so  handle  'em, 
That  the  vibration  of  this  pendulum 
Shall  make  all  tailors'  yards  of  one  loas 

Unanimous  opinion ; 
A  thing  he  long  has  vapour'd  of. 
But  now  shall  make  it  out  by  proof. 

Quoth  Sidrophel,  I  do  not  doubt 
To  find  friends  that  will  bear  me  out ;  i030 

Nor  have  I  hazarded  my  art 
And  neck  so  long  on  the  State's  part 
To  be  expos'd  i'  th'  end  to  suffer 
By  such  a  braggadocio  buffer. 

Huffer !  quoth  Hudibras,  this  sword  loss 

Shall  down  thy  false  throat  cram  that  word. 
Ralpho,  make  haste,  and  call  an  officer 
To  apprehend  this  Stygian  sophister ; 
Meanwhile  I  '11  hold  'em  at  a  bay. 
Lest  he  and  Whachum  run  away. 


PART   II.      CANTO   III.  247 

But  Sidropliel,  who  from  tli'  aspect 
Of  Hudibras  did  now  erect 
A  figure  worse  portending  far 
Than  that  of  most  malignant  star, 
Behev'd  it  now  the  fittest  moment  1045 

To  shun  the  danger  that  might  come  on  't, 
While  Hudibras  was  all  alone, 
And  he  and  Whachum  two  to  one. 
This  being  resolv'd,  he  spy'd  by  chance 
Behind  the  door  an  iron  lance,  106O 

That  many  a  sturdy  Hmb  had  gor'd. 
And  legs,  and  loins,  and  shoulders  bor'd ; 
He  snatch'd  it  up,  and  made  a  pass 
To  make  his  way  through  Hudibras. 
Wlaachum  had  got  a  fire-fork,  1055 

With  which  he  vow'd  to  do  his  work ; 
But  Hudibras  was  well  prepar'd, 
And  stoutly  stood  upon  his  guard  : 
He  put  by  Sidrophello's  thrust, 
And  in  right  manfully  he  rusht;  106O 

The  weapon  from  his  gripe  he  wrung, 
And  laid  him  on  the  earth  along. 
Whachum  his  sea-coal  prong  threw  by, 
And  basely  turn'd  his  back  to  fly ; 
But  Hudibras  gave  him  a  twitch,  loes 

As  quick  as  lightning,  in  the  breech. 
Just  in  the  place  where  honour  's  lodg'd, 
As  wise  philosophers  have  judg'd. 
Because  a  kick  in  that  place  more 
Hurts  honour  than  deep  wounds  before.  1070 


248  HUDIBKAS. 

Quoth  Hudibras,  The  stars  determine 
You  are  my  prisoners,  base  vermine : 
Could  they  not  tell  you  so,  as  well 
As  what  I  came  to  know  foretell  ? 
By  this  what  cheats  you  are  we  find,  io73 

That  in  your  own  concerns  are  blind. 
Your  lives  are  now  at  my  dispose. 
To  be  redeem'd  by  fine  or  blows ; 
But  who  his  honour  would  defile 
To  take  or  sell  two  lives  so  vile  ?  loso 

I  'U  give  you  quarter ;  but  your  pillage, 
The  conqu'ring  warrior's  crop  and  tillage 
Which  with  his  sword  he  reaps  and  plows, 
That  's  mine,  the  law  of  arms  allows. 

This  said  in  haste,  in  haste  he  fell  loss 

To  rummaging  of  Sidrophel. 
First  he  expounded  both  his  pockets, 
And  found  a  watch,  with  rings  and  lockets, 
Which  had  been  left  with  him  t'  erect 
A  figure  for,  and  so  detect ;  1090 

A  copper-plate,  with  almanacks 
Engrav'd  upon  't,  with  other  knacks 
Of  Booker's,  Lilly's,  Sarah  Jimmers', 
And  blank  schemes  to  discover  nimmers ; 

V.  1093.  John  Booker  was  bom  in  Manchester,  and  was  a 
famous  astrologer  in  the  time  of  the  civil  wars.  He  was  a 
great  acquaintance  of  Lilly's;  and  so  was  this  Sarah  Jimmers, 
whom  Lilly  calls  '  Sarah  Shelhorn,'  a  great  speculatrix.  He 
owns  he  was  very  familiar  with  her  ('quod  nota'),  so  that 
it  is  no  wonder  that  the  Knight  found  several  of  their  knick 
knacks  m  Sidrophel's  cabinet. 


PART   II.      CANTO    III.  249 

A  moon-dial,  with  Napier's  bones,  1095 

And  several  consteUation-stoues, 

Engrav'd  in  planetary  hours. 

That  over  mortals  had  strange  powers 

To  make  them  thrive  in  law  or  trade, 

And  stab  or  poison  to  evade,  1100 

In  wit  or  wisdom  to  improve. 

And  be  victorious  m  love. 

Wliachum  had  neither  cross  nor  pile, 

His  plunder  was  not  worth  the  while. 

All  which  the  conqu'ror  did  discomprt,  nos 

To  pay  for  curing  of  his  rump. 

But  Sidrophel,  as  full  of  tricks  . 

As  Rota-men  of  politics, 

Straight  cast  about  to  overreach 

Th'  unwary  conqu'ror  with  a  fetch,  mo 

And  make  him  glad  at  least  to  quit 

His  victory,  and  fly  the  pit. 

Before  the  secular  prince  of  darkness 

Arriv'd  to  seize  upon  his  carcass  : 

And  as  a  fox,  with  hot  pursuit  1115 

Chas'd  through  a  wan-en,  casts  about 

To  save  his  credit,  and  among 

Dead  vermine  on  a  gallows  hung, 

And  while  the  dogs  run  underneath, 

Escap'd  (by  counterfeiting  death),  1120 

Not  out  of  cunning,  but  a  train 

Of  atoms  justling  in  his  brain. 

As  learn'd  philosophers  give  out ; 

So  Sidrophello  cast  about, 

VOL.  I.  20 


250  HUDIBRAS. 

And  fell  t'  his  wonted  trade  again  iiw 

To  feign  himself  in  earnest  slain. 

First  stretch'd  out  one  leg,  then  another, 

And,  seeming  in  his  breast  to  smother 

A  broken  sigh  ;  quoth  he,  Where  am  I  ? 

Alive  or  dead?  or  which  way  came  I  ii3o 

Through  so  immense  a  space  so  soon  ? 

But  now  I  thought  myself  i'  th'  moon, 

And  that  a  monster,  with  huge  whiskers 

More  formidable  than  a  Switzer's, 

My  body  through  and  through  had  drill'd,        1135 

And  Whachum  by  my  side  had  kill'd ; 

Had  cross-examin'd  both  our  hose, 

And  plunder'd  all  we  had  to  lose : 

Look  !  there  he  is  !  I  see  him  now, 

And  feel  the  place  I  am  run  through  !  luo 

And  there  hes  Whachum  by  my  side 

Stone  dead,  and  in  his  own  blood  dy'd ! 

Oh  I  oh !  —  With  that  he  fetch'd  a  groan, 

And  fell  again  into  a  swoon, 

Shut  both  his  eyes,  and  stopp'd  his  breath,       1143 

And  to  the  Ufe  outacted  death. 

That  Hudibras,  to  all  appearing, 

BeUev'd  him  to  be  dead  as  herring. 

He  held  it  now  no  longer  safe 

To  tarry  the  return  of  Ralph,  1150 

But  rather  leave  him  in  the  lurch  : 

Thought  he,  He  has  abus'd  our  Church, 

Refus'd  to  give  himself  one  firk 

To  carry  on  the  Public  Work ; 


PART   II.      CANTO   III.  25 1 

Despis'd  our  Synod-men  like  dirt,  1155 

And  made  their  discipline  his  sport ; 

Divulg'd  the  secrets  of  their  Classes, 

And  their  Conventions  prov'd  high-places  ; 

Disparag'd  their  tithe-pigs  as  Pagan, 

And  set  at  nought  their  cheese  and  bacon  ;      ueo 

RaU'd  at  their  Covenant,  and  jeer'd 

Their  rev'rend  Parsons  to  my  beard ; 

For  all  which  scandals  to  be  quit 

At  once  this  juncture  falls  out  fit. 

I  '11  make  him  henceforth  to  beware,  lies 

And  tempt  my  fury  if  he  dare : 

He  must  at  least  hold  up  his  hand, 

By  twelve  freeholders  to  be  scann'd, 

Who,  by  their  skill  in  palmistry, 

Will  quickly  read  his  destiny,  1170 

And  make  him  glad  to  read  his  lesson. 

Or  take  a  turn  for  't  at  the  Session, 

Unless  his  Light  and  gifts  prove  truer 

Than  ever  yet  they  did,  I  'm  sure : 

For  if  he  'scape  with  whipping  now,  1175 

'Tis  more  than  he  can  hope  to  do  ; 

And  that  will  disengage  my  Conscience 

Of  th'  obhgation,  in  his  own  sense. 

I  '11  make  him  now  by  force  abide, 

What  he  by  gentle  means  deny'd,  liso 

To  give  my  honour  satisfaction, 

And  right  the  Brethren  in  the  action. 

This  being  resolv'd,  with  equal  speed 

And  conduct  he  approach'd  his  steed, 


252  HUDIBRAS. 

And,  with  activity  unwont, 

Assay'd  the  lofty  beast  to  mount ;  iiss 

Which  once  achiev'd,  he  spurr'd  his  palfry 

To  get  from  th'  enemy  and  Ralph  free ; 

Left  dangers,  fears,  and  foes  behind, 

And  beat  at  least  three  lengths  the  wind.         i  loo 


HUDIBRAS    TO    SIDROPHEL.  253 


AN     HEEOICAL     EPISTLE* 
OF  HUDIBRAS  TO  SIDROPHEL. 

Ecce  iterum  Crispinus. . . . 

Well,  Sidrophel,  though  'tis  in  vain 

To  tamper  with  your  crazy  brain, 

Without  trepanning  of  your  scull 

As  often  as  the  moon  's  at  full, 

'Tis  not  amiss,  ere  y'  are  giv'n  o'er,  8 

To  try  one  desp'rate  med'cine  more  ; 

For  where  your  case  can  be  no  worse 

The  desp'rat'st  is  the  wisest  course. 

Is  't  possible  that  you,  whose  ears 

Aj'e  of  the  tribe  of  Issachar's,  lO 

And  might  (with  equal  reason)  either 

*  This  Epistle  was  published  ten  years  after  the  Third 
Canto  of  the  Second  Part,  to  which  it  is  now  annexed,  name- 
ly, in  the  year  1674 ;  and  is  said,  ua  a  Key  to  a  Burlesque 
Poem  of  Mr.  Butler's,  published  1706,  p.  13,  to  have  been 
occasioned  by  Sir  Paul  Neai,  a  conceited  virtuoso,  and 
member  of  the  Royal  Society,  who  constantly  affirmed  that 
Mr.  Butler  was  not  the  author  of  Hudibras,  which  gave  rise  to 
this  Epistle;  and  by  some  he  has  been  taken  for  the  real  Sidro- 
phel of  the  poem.  This  was  the  gentleman,  who,  I  am  told, 
made  a  great  discovery  of  an  elephant  in  the  moon,  which, 
upon  examination,  proved  to  be  no  other  than  a  mouse  which 
had  mistaken  its  way,  and  got  into  his  telescope.  See  '  The 
Elephant  in  the  Moon, '  vol.  ii. 


254  HUDIBRAS   TO    SIDROPHEL. 

For  merit  or  extent  of  leather, 

With  William  Pryn's,  before  they  were 

Retrench'd  and  crucify'd,  compare, 

Should  yet  be  deaf  against  a  noise  is 

So  roaring  as  the  public  voice  ? 

That  speaks  your  virtues  free  and  loud, 

And  openly  in  every  crowd, 

As  loud  as  one  that  sings  his  part 

T'  a  wheelbarrow  or  turnip-cart,  -jo 

Or  your  new  nick-nam'd  old  invention 

To  cry  green  bastings  with  an  engine 

(As  if  the  vehemence  had  stunn'd 

And  torn  your  drum-heads  with  the  sound) ; 

And  'cause  your  folly  's  now  no  news,  25 

But  overgrown  and  out  of  use, 

Persuade  yourself  there  's  no  such  matter, 

But  that  'tis  vanish'd  out  of  Nature  ; 

When  Folly,  as  it  grows  in  years, 

The  more  extravagant  appears ;  so 

For  who  but  you  could  be  possest 

With  so  much  ignorance  and  beast. 

That  neither  all  men's  scorn  and  hate, 

Nor  being  laugh'd  and  pointed  at, 

Nor  bray'd  so  often  in  a  mortar,  ss 

Can  teach  you  wholesome  sense  and  nurture. 

But  (like  a  reprobate)  what  course 

Soever  us'd,  grow  worse  and  worse  ? 

Can  no  transfusion  of  the  blood, 

That  makes  fools  cattle,  do  you  good  ?  40 

Nor  putting  pigs  t'  a  bitch  to  nurse, 


HUDIBRAS   TO    SIDROPHEL.  255  ' 

To  turn  them  into  mongrel  curs, 

Put  you  into  a  way  at  least 

To  make  yourself  a  better  beast  ? 

Can  all  your  critical  intrigues  4S 

Of  trying  sound  from  rotten  eggs  ; 

Your  sev'ral  new-found  remedies 

Of  curing  wounds  and  scabs  ia  trees ; 

Your  arts  of  fluxing  them  for  claps, 

And  purging  their  infected  saps ;  M 

Recov'ring  shankers,  chrystallines, 

And  nodes  and  blotches  in  then*  rinds ; 

Have  no  effect  to  operate 

Upon  that  duller  block,  your  pate  ? 

But  stiU  it. must  be  lewdly  bent  M 

To  tempt  your  own  due  punishment ; 

And,  like  your  whimsy'd  chariots,  draw 

The  boys  to  course  you  without  law ; 

As  if  the  art  you  have  so  long 

Profess'd,  of  making  old  dogs  young,  60 

In  you  had  virtue  to  renew 

Not  only  youth  but  childhood  too. 

Can  you,  that  understand  all  books, 

By  judging  only  with  your  looks. 

Resolve  all  problems  with  your  face,  6S 

As  others  do  with  B's  and  A's ; 

Unriddle  all  that  mankind  knows 

With  solid  bending  of  your  brows ; 

All  arts  and  sciences  advance 

With  screwing  of  your  countenance,  70 

And  with  a  penetrating  eye 


256  HUDIBRAS    TO    SIDROPHEL. 

Into  th'  abstrusest  learning  pry  ; 

Know  more  of  any  trade  b'  a  hint 

Than  those  that  have  been  bred  up  in  't, 

And  yet  have  no  art,  true  or  false,  75 

To  help  your  own  bad  naturals  ? 

But  still  the  more  you  strive  t'  appear 

Are  found  to  be  the  wretcheder : 

For  fools  are  known  by  looking  wise, 

As  men  find  woodcocks  by  their  eyes.  eo 

Hence  'tis  that  'cause  y'  have  gain'd  o'  th'  college 

A  quarter  share  (at  most)  of  knowledge, 

And  brought  in  none,  but  spent  repute, 

Y'  assume  a  pow'r  as  absolute 

To  judge,  and  censure,  and  control,  66 

As  if  you  were  the  sole  Sir  Poll, 

And  saucily  pretend  to  know 

More  than  your  dividend  comes  to. 

You  '11  find  the  thing  will  not  be  done 

With  ignorance  and  face  alone ;  go 

No,  though  y'  have  purchas'd  to  your  name 

In  history  so  great  a  fame  ; 

V.  86.  Sir  Politic  Would-be,  in  "  Volpone." 
V.  91,  92.  These  two  lines,  I  tliink,  plainly  discover  that 
Lilly,  and  not  Sir  Paul  Neal,  was  here  lashed  under  the  name 
of '  Sidrophel ; '  for  Lilly's  fame  abroad  was  indisputable.  Mr. 
Strickland,  who  was  many  years  agent  for  the  Parliament  in 
Holland,  thus  publishes  it:  "I  came  purposely  into  the  com- 
mittee this  day  to  see  the  man  who  is  so  famous  in  those  parts 
where  I  have  so  long  continued :  I  assure  you  his  name  is  fa- 
mous all  over  Europe.  I  came  to  do  hmi  justice."  Lilly  is 
also  careful  to  tell  us,  that  the  King  of  Sweden  sent  liim  a  gold 
chain  and  medal,  worth  about  fifty  pounds,  for  making  hon 


HUDIBRAS    TO    SIDROrHEL  257 

That  now  your  talent 's  so  well  known 

For  having  all  belief  outgrown, 

That  ev'ry  strange  prodigious  tale  96 

Is  measur'd  by  your  German  scale  — 

By  which  the  virtuosi  try 

The  magnitude  of  ev'ry  lie, 

Cast  up  to  what  it  does  amount, 

And  place  the  bigg'st  to  your  account :  loo 

That  aU  those  stories  that  are  laid 

Too  truly  to  you,  and  those  made. 

Are  now  still  charg'd  upon  your  score, 

And  lesser  authors  nam'd  no  more. 

Alas  !  that  faculty  betrays  lOft 

Those  soonest  it  designs  to  raise ; 

And  aU  your  vain  renown  will  spoil, 

As  guns  o'ercharg'd  the  more  recoil ; 

Though  he  that  has  but  impudence 

To  all  thmgs  has  a  fair  pretence ;  no 

And  put  among  his  wants  but  shame, 

To  all  the  world  may  lay  his  claim  : 

Though  you  have  try'd  that  nothing  's  borne 

With  greater  ease  than  public  scorn. 

That  all  affronts  do  still  give  place  iis 

To  your  impenetrable  face  ; 

That  makes  your  way  tlu'ough  all  affairs. 

Durable  mention  of  his  Majesty  in  one  of  his  almanacks,  which, 
he  says,  was  translated  hito  tlie  language  spoken  at  Hamburgh, 
and  printed  and  cried  about  the  streets,  as  it  was  in  Loudon. 
Thus  he  trumpets  to  the  world  the  fame  he  acquired  by  his 
infamous  practices,  if  we  may  credit  his  own  history. 
V.  105.    Yar.  '  Destroys.' 


258  HUDIBRAS    TO    SIDROPHEL. 

As  pigs  through  hedges  creep  with  theirs : 

Yet  as  'tis  counterfeit,  and  brass, 

You  must  not  think  'twill  always  pass ;  120 

For  all  impostors,  when  they  're  known, 

Are  past  their  labour  and  undone ; 

And  all  the  best  that  can  befall 

An  artificial  natural. 

Is  that  which  madmen  find  as  soon  125 

As  once  they  're  broke  loose  from  the  moon, 

And,  proof  against  her  influence, 

Relapse  to  e'er  so  little  sense, 

To  turn  stark  fools,  and  subjects  fit 

For  sport  of  boys  and  rabble-wit.  iso 


PART   III.      CANTO    I.  259 


PAET    III.    CANTO    I. 

THE   ARGUMENT. 

The  Knight  and  Squire  resolve  at  once, 

The  one  the  other  to  renounce ; 

They  both  approach  the  Lady's  bower, 

The  Squire  t'  mform,  the  Knight  to  woo  her. 

She  treats  them  with  a  masquerade, 

By  Furies  and  HobgobUns  made ; 

From  which  the  Squire  conveys  the  Knight, 

And  steals  him  from  himself  by  night. 

'Tis  true  no  lover  has  that  pow'r 

T'  enforce  a  desperate  amour, 

As  he  that  has  two  strings  t'  his  bow, 

And  burns  for  love  and  money  too ; 

For  then  he  's  brave  and  resolute,  6 

Disdains  to  render  in  his  suit ; 

Has  aU  his  flames  and  raptures  double, 

And  hangs  or  drowns  with  half  the  trouble; 

While  those  who  sillily  pursue 

The  simple  downright  way  and  true,  lo 

Make  as  unlucky  applications, 

And  steer  against  the  stream,  their  passions. 

Some  forge  their  mistresses  of  stars. 

And  when  the  ladies  prove  averse, 

And  more  untoward  to  be  won  is 

Than  by  Caligula  the  moon, 


260  HUDIBRAS. 

Cry  out  upon  the  stars  for  doing 
111  offices,  to  cross  their  wooing, 
When  only  by  themselves  they  're  huid'red, 
For  trusting  those  they  made  her  kindred,  20 

And  still  the  harsher  and  hide-bounder 
The  damsels  prove,  become  the  fonder ; 
For  what  mad  lover  ever  dy'd  . 
To  gain  a  soft  and  gentle  bride  ? 
Or  for  a  lady  tender-hearted,  26 

In  purhng  streams  or  hemp  departed  ? 
Leap'd  headlong  int'  Elysium, 
Through  th'  windows  of  a  dazzling  room  ? 
But  for  some  cross  ill-natur'd  dame. 
The  am'rous  fly  burnt  in  his  flame.  30 

This  to  the  Knight  could  be  no  news. 
With  all  mankind  so  much  in  use, 
Who  therefore  took  the  wiser  course. 
To  make  the  most  of  his  amours, 
Resolv'd  to  try  all  sorts  of  ways,  35 

As  follows  in  due  time  and  place. 
No  sooner  was  the  bloody  fight 
Between  the  Wizard  and  the  Knight, 
With  all  th'  appurtenances,  over, 
But  he  relaps'd  again  t'  a  lover,  40 

As  he  was  always  wont  to  do 
When  h'  had  discomfited  a  foe. 
And  us'd  the  only  antique  philters 
Deriv'd  from  old  heroic  tilters. 

V.  43.    Var.  '  And  us'd  as.' 


PART  III.   CANTO  I.  261 

But  now  triumphant  and  victorious,  45 

He  held  th'  achievement  was  too  glorious 

For  such  a  conqueror  to  meddle 

With  petty  constable  or  beadle, 

Or  fly  for  refuge  to  the  hostess 

Of  th'  inns  of  Court  and  Chancery,  Justice ;      50 

Who  might  perhaps  reduce  his  cause 

To  th'  ordeal  trial  of  the  laws, 

Where  none  escape  but  such  as  branded 

With  red-hot  irons  have  past  bare-handed  ; 

And,  if  they  cannot  read  one  verse  55 

I'  th'  Psalms,  must  sing  it,  and  that 's  worse. 

He,  thei'efore,  judging  it  below  him 

To  tempt  a  shame  the  dev'l  might  owe  him, 

Resolv'd  to  leave  the  Squire  for  bail 

And  mainprize  for  him  to  the  jail,  60 

To  answer  with  his  vessel  aU 

That  might  disastrously  befall, 

And  thought  it  now  the  fittest  juncture 

To  give  the  Lady  a  rencounter, 

T'  acquaint  her  with  his  expedition,  65 

And  conquest  o'er  the  fierce  magician  ; 

Describe  the  manner  of  the  fray, 

And  shew  the  spoils  he  brought  away ; 

His  bloody-scourging  aggravate. 

The  nvimber  of  the  blows,  and  weight ;  70 

All  which  might  probably  succeed, 

And  gain  belief  he  'ad  done  the  deed : 

Wliich  he  resolv'd  t'  enforce,  and  spare 

No  pawning  of  his  soul  to  swear ; 


262  HUDIBRAS. 

But  rather  than  produce  his  back,  7» 

To  set  his  conscience  on  the  rack ; 
And,  in  pursuance  of  his  urging 
Of  articles  perform'd,  and  scourging, 
And  all  things  else,  upon  his  part 
Demand  deliv'ry  of  her  heart,  so 

Her  goods,  and  chattels,  and  good  gi-aces. 
And  person,  up  to  his  embraces- 
Thought  he.  The  ancient  errant  knights 
Won  all  their  ladies'  hearts  in  fights. 
And  cut  whole  giants  into  fritters,  85 

To  put  them  into  am'rous  twitters  ; 
Whose  stubborn  bowels  scorn'd  to  yield. 
Until  their  gallants  were  half  kill'd  ; 
But  when  then-  bones  were  drubb'd  so  sore, 
They  durst  not  woo  one  combat  more,  90 

The  ladies'-  hearts  began  to  melt, 
Subdu'd  by  blows  their  lovers  felt. 
So  Spanish  heroes  with  their  lances, 
At  once  wound  bulls  and  ladies'  fancies ; 
And  he  acquires  the  noblest  spouse  9S 

That  widows  greatest  herds  of  cows ; 
Then  what  may  I  expect  to  do, 
Wh'  have  quell'd  so  vast  a  buffalo? 

Meanwhile  the  Squire  was  on  his  way, 
The  Knight's  late  orders  to  obey ;  lOO 

Who  sent  him  for  a  strong  detachment 
Of  beadles,  constables,  and  watchmen, 
T'  attack  the  cunning-man,  for  plunder 
Committed  falsely  on  his  lumber  ; 


PART    III.       CANTO    I.  263 

When  he  who  had  so  lately  sack'd  135 

The  enemy,  had  done  the  fact ; 

Had  rifled  all  his  pokes  and  fobs 

Of  gimcracks,  whims,  and  jiggumbobs, 

Which  he  by  hook  or  crook  had  gather'd, 

And  for  his  own  inventions  father'd ;  no 

And  when  they  should,  at  gaol  delivery, 

Unriddle  one  another's  thievery, 

Both  might  have  evidence  enough 

To  render  neither  halter-proof: 

He  thought  it  desperate  to  tarry,  us 

And  venture  to  be  accessary ; 

But  rather  wisely  slip  his  fetters, 

And  leave  them  for  the  Knight,  his  betters. 

He  call'd  to  mind  th'  unjust  foul  i^lay. 

He  would  have  ofFer'd  him  that  day,  120 

To  make  him  curry  his  own  hide. 

Which  no  beast  ever  did  beside 

Without  all  possible  evasion. 

But  of  the  riding  dispensation  : 

And  therefore  much  about  the  hour  126 

The  Knight  (for  reasons  told  before) 

Resolv'd  to  leave  him  to  the  fui*y 

Of  Justice,  and  an  unpack'd  jury, 

The  Squire  concurr'd  t'  abandon  him, 

And  serve  him  in  the  self-same  trim ;  130 

T'  acquaint  the  Lady  what  h'  had  done. 

And  what  he  meant  to  carry  on  ; 

What  project  'twas  he  went  about, 

When  Sidrophel  and  he  fell  out : 


264  HUDIBEAS. 

His  firm  and  steadfast  resolution,  i85 

To  swear  her  to  an  execution  ; 

To  pawn  his  inward  ears  to  marry  her, 

And  bribe  the  devil  himself  to  carry  her ; 

In  which  both  dealt,  as  if  they  meant 

Their  party-saints  to  represent,  uo 

Who  never  fail'd  upon  their  sharing 

In  any  prosperous  arms-bearing, 

To  lay  themselves  out,  to  supplant 

Each  other  cousin-german  saint. 

But  ere  the  Knight  could  do  his  part,  i45 

The  Squire  had  got  so  much  the  start, 

H'  had  to  the  Lady  done  his  errand. 

And  told  her  all  his  tricks  aforehand. 

Just  as  he  finish'd  liis  report, 

The  Knight  alighted  in  the  court,  150 

And  having  ty'd  his  beast  t'  a  pale, 

And  taking  time  for  both  to  stale, 

He  put  his  band  and  beard  in  order, 

The  sprucer  to  accost  and  board  her : 

And  now  began  t'  approach  the  door,  ib6 

When  she,  wh'  had  spy'd  him  out  before, 

Convey'd  th'  informer  out  of  sight, 

And  went  to  entertain  the  Knight ; 

With  whom  encount'ring,  after  longees 

Of  humble  and  submissive  congees,  leo 

And  all  due  ceremonies  paid, 

He  strok'd  his  beard,  and  thus  he  said : 

Madam,  I  do,  as  is  my  duty, 
Honour  the  shadow  of  your  shoe-tye  ; 


PART   HI.      CANTO    I.  265 

And  now  am  come  to  bring  your  ear  166 

A  present  you  '11  be  glad  to  hear ; 

At  least  I  hope  so :  the  thing  's  done, 

Or  may  I  never  see  the  sun ; 

For  which  I  humbly  now  demand 

Performance  at  your  gentle  hand ;  no 

And  that  you  'd  please  to  do  your  part 

As  I  have  done  mine,  to  my  smart. 

With  that  he  shrugg'd  his  sturdy  back, 
As  if  he  felt  his  shoulders  ake  : 
But  she,  who  well  enough  knew  what  175 

(Before  he  spoke)  he  would  be  at, 
Pretended  not  to  apprehend 
The  mystery  of  what  he  mean'd. 
And  therefore  wish'd  him  to  expound 
His  dark  expressions  less  profound.  I80 

Madam,  quoth  he,  I  come  to  prove 
How  much  I  've  suffer'd  for  your  love, 
Wliich  (like  your  votary)  to  win, 
I  have  not  spar'd  my  tatter'd  skin : 
And,  for  those  meritorious  lashes,  iss 

To  claim  your  favour  and  good  graces. 

Quoth  she,  I  do  remember  once 
I  freed  you  from  th'  inchanted  sconce, 
And  that  you  promis'd  for  that  favour 
To  bind  your  back  to  th'  good  behaviour  ;  190 

And,  for  my  sake  and  service,  vow'd 
To  lay  upon  't  a  heavy  load, 
And  what 't  would  bear  t'  a  scruple  prove, 
As  other  kniglits  do  oft  make  love ; 


'to' 
VOL.    T.  21 


266  HUDIBRAS. 

WMch,  whetlier  you  have  done  or  no,  195 

Concerns  yourself,  not  me,  to  know ; 
But  if  you  have,  I  shall  confess 
Y'  are  honester  than  I  could  guess. 

Quoth  he,  If  you  suspect  my  troth, 
I  cannot  prove  it  but  by  oath;  200 

And  if  you  make  a  question  on  't, 
I  '11  pawn  my  soul  that  I  have  done  't : 
And  he  that  makes  his  soul  his  suret}*, 
I  think,  does  give  the  best  security. 

Quoth  she,  Some  say  the  soul  's  secure  205 

Against  distress  and  forfeiture  ; 
Is  free  from  action,  and  exempt 
From  execution  and  contempt ; 
And  to  be  summon'd  to  appear 
In  th'  other  world  's  illegal  here,  210 

And  therefore  few  make  any  account 
Int'  what  incumljrances  they  run  't 
For  most  men  carry  things  so  even 
Between  this  world,  and  hell,  and  heaven, 
Without  the  least  offence  to  either,  216 

They  freely  deal  in  all  together, 
And  equally  abhor  to  quit 
This  world  for  both,  or  both  for  it ; 
And  when  they  pawn  and  damn  their  souls, 
They  are  but  pris'ners  on  paroles.  220 

For  that,  quoth  he,  'tis  rational. 
They  may  b'  accomptable  in  all : 
For  when  there  is  that  intercourse 
Between  divine  and  human  pow'rs. 


PART   ni.      CANTO    I.  267 

That  all  that  we  determine  here  225 

Commands  obedience  everj-where ; 

When  penalties  may  be  commuted 

For  fines,  or  ears,  and  executed, 

It  follows  nothing  binds  so  fast 

As  souls  in  pawn  and  mortgage  past ;  230 

For  oaths  are  th'  only  tests  and  seals 

Of  right  and  wrong,  and  true  and  false ; 

And  there  's  no  other  way  to  try 

The  doubts  of  law  and  justice  by. 

Quoth  she.  What  is  it  you  would  swear  ?       235 
There  's  no  believing  till  I  hear : 
For  till  they  're  understood,  all  tales 
(Like  nonsense)  are  not  true  nor  false. 

Quoth  he,  When  I  resolv'd  t'  obey 
What  you  commanded  th'  other  day,  240 

And  to  perform  my  exercise 
(As  schools  are  wont)  for  your  fair  eyes, 
T'  avoid  all  scruples  in  the  case, 
I  went  to  do  't  upon  the  place 
But  as  the  castle  is  inchanted  245 

By  Sidrophel  the  witch,  and  haunted 
With  evil  spirits,  as  you  know, 
Who  took  my  Squire  and  me  for  tWo, 
Before  I  'ad  hardly  time  to  lay 
My  weapons  by,  and  disarray,  aso 

I  heard  a  formidable  noise. 
Loud  as  the  Stentrophonic  voice. 
That  roar'd  far  off.  Dispatch,  and  strip, 
I  'm  ready  with  th'  infernal  whip. 


268  HUDIBRAS. 

That  shall  divest  thy  ribs  of  skin,  255 

To  expiate  thy  ling'ring  sin  ; 

Th'  hast  broke  perfidiously  thy  oath, 

And  not  perform'd  thy  plighted  troth, 

But  spar'd  thy  renegado  back, 

Where  th'  hadst  so  great  a  prize  at  stake,  aeo 

Which  now  the  Fates  have  order'd  me. 

For  penance  and  revenge  to  flee. 

Unless  thou  presently  make  haste ; 

Time  is,  time  was :  and  there  it  ceast. 

With  which,  though  startled,  I  confess,  265 

Yet  th'  horror  of  the  thing  was  less    ■ 

Than  th'  other  dismal  apprehension 

Of  interruption  or  prevention  ; 

And  therefore  snatching  up  the  rod, 

I  laid  upon  my  back  a  load,  370 

Resolv'd  to  spare  no  flesh  and  blood, 

To  make  my  word  and  honour  good: 

Till  tir'd,  and  taking  truce  at  length. 

For  new  recruits  of  breath  and  strength, 

I  felt  the  blows  stiU  ply'd  as  fast  275 

As  if  th'  had  been  by  lovers  plac'd 

In  raptures  of  Platonic  lashing, 

And  chaste  contemplative  bardashing ; 

When  facing  hastily  about, 

To  stand  upon  my  guard  and  scout,  S80 

I  found  th'  infernal  cunning-man. 

And  th'  under-witch,  his  Caliban, 

With  scourges  (like  the  Furies)  arm'd. 

That  on  my  outward  quarters  storm'd. 


PART   III.     CANTO   I.  269 

In  haste  I  snatch'd  my  weapon  up,  285 

And  gave  their  hellish  rage  a  stop ; 
Call'd  thrice  upon  your  name,  and  fell 
Courageously  on  Sidrophel ; 
Who  now  transform'd  himself  t'  a  bear. 
Began  to  roar  aloud  and  tear ;  290 

"VYhen  I  as  furiously  press'd  on, 
My  weapon  down  his  throat  to  run, 
Laid  hold  on  him,  but  he  broke  loose. 
And  turn'd  himself  into  a  goose, 
Div'd  under  water  in  a  pond,  295 

To  hide  himself  from  being  found. 
In  vain  I  sought  him ;  but  as  soon 
As  I  perceiv'd  him  fled  and  gone, 
Prepar'd,  with  equal  haste  and  rage, 
His  under-sorce.'-er  t'  engage ;  300 

But  bravely  scornmg  to  defile 
My  sword  with  feeble  blood,  and  vile, 
I  judg'd  it  better  from  a  quick- 
Set  hedge  to  cut  a  knotted  stick ; 
With  which  I  furiously  laid  on,  305 

TiU  in  a  harsh  and  doleful  tone 
It  roar'd,  O  hold,  for  pity,  Su- ! 
I  am  too  great  a  sufferer, 
Abus'd,  as  you  have  been,  b'  a  witch, 
But  conjur'd  into  a  worse  caprich :  sjo 

Who  sends  me  out  on  many  a  jaunt. 
Old  houses  in  the  night  to  haunt. 
For  opportunities  t'  improve 
Designs  of  thievery  or  love ; 


270  HUDIBRAS. 

With  drugs  convey'd  in  drink  or  meat,  sis 

All  feats  of  witches  counterfeit, 

KiU  pigs  and  geese  with  powder'd  glass, 

And  make  it  for  inchantment  pass  ; 

With  cow-itch  measle  like  a  leper, 

And  choke  with  fumes  of  Guinea-pepper ;         320 

Make  lechers,  and  their  punks,  with  dewtry. 

Commit  phantastical  advowtry ; 

Bewitch  Hermetic-men  to  run 

Stark  staring  mad  with  manicon ; 

Believe  mechanic  virtuosi  32& 

Can  raise  them  mountains  in  Potosi ; 

And,  siUier  than  the  antic  fools, 

Take  treasure  for  a  heap  of  coals  ; 

Seek  out  for  plants  with  signatures, 

To  quack  off  universal  cures  ;  330 

With  figures  ground  on  panes  of  glass, 

Make  people  on  their  heads  to  pass  ; 

And  mighty  heaps  of  coin  increase. 

Reflected  from  a  single  piece  ; 

To  draw  m  fools,  whose  nat'ral  itches  335 

Incline  perpetually  to  witches. 

And  keep  me  in  continual  fears. 

And  danger  of  my  neck  and  ears ; 

When  less  delinquents  have  been  scourg'd, 

And  hemp  on  wooden  anvils  forg'd,  340 

Which  others  for  cravats  have  worn 

About  their  necks,  and  took  a  turn. 

I  pity'd  the  sad  punishment 
The  wretched  caitiff  underwent, 


PART    III.       CANTO    I.  271 

And  held  my  drubbing  of  his  bones  345 

Too  great  an  honour  for  pultroons  ; 

For  knights  are  bound  to  feel  no  blows 

From  paltry  and  unequal  foes, 

Who,  when  they  slash  and  cut  to  pieces. 

Do  all  with  civilest  addi-esses :  350 

Their  horses  never  give  a  blow, 

But  when  they  make  a  leg  and  bow% 

I  therefore  spar'd  his  flesh,  and  prest  him 

About  the  witch  with  many  a  question. 

Quoth  he,  For  many  years  he  drove  355 

A  kind  of  broking-trade  in  love : 
Employ'd  in  all  th'  intrigues  and  trust. 
Of  feeble  speculative  lust; 
Procurer  to  th'  extravagancy 
And  crazy  ribaldry  of  fancy,  360 

By  those  the  devil  had  forsook. 
As  things  below  him,  to  provoke ; 
But  b'ing  a  virtuoso,  able 
To  smatter,  quack,  and  cant,  and  dabble, 
He  held  his  talent  most  adroit,  365 

For  any  mystical  exploit. 
As  others  of  his  tribe  had  done, 
And  rais'd  their  prices  three  to  one : 
For  one  predicting  pimp  has  th'  odds 
Of  chaldrons  of  plain  downright  bawds,  370 

But  as  an  elf  (the  dev'l's  valet) 
Is  not  so  slight  a  thing  to  get, 
For  those  that  do  his  bus'ness  best, 
In  hell  are  us'd  the  ruggedest, 


272  HTJDIBRAS. 

Before  so  mei'iting  a  person  375 

Could  get  a  grant,  but  in  reversion, 

He  serv'd  two  prenticeships,  and  longer, 

I'  th'  myst'ry  of  a  lady-monger. 

For  (as  some  write)  a  witch's  ghost. 

As  soon  as  from  the  body  loos'd,  S80 

Becomes  a  puiney  imp  itself. 

And  is  another  witch's  elf. 

He,  after  searching  far  and  near, 

At  length  found  one  in  Lancashire, 

With  whom  he  bargain'd  before-hand,  385 

And,  after  hanging,  entertain'd : 

Since  which  h'  has  play'd  a  thousand  feats. 

And  practis'd  all  mechanic  cheats  ; 

Transform'd  himself  to  th'  ugly  shapes 

Of  wolves,  and  bears,  baboons,  and  apes,  390 

Which  he  has  vary'd  more  than  witches. 

Or  Pharaoh's  wizards,  could  their  switches ; 

And  all  with  whom  h'  has  had  to  do, 

Turn'd  to  as  monstrous  figures  too ; 

Witness  myself,  whom  h'  has  abus'd,  395 

And  to  this  beastly  shape  reduc'd, 

By  feeding  me  on  beans  and  pease 

He  crams  in  nasty  crevices. 

And  turns  to  comfits  by  his  arts, 

To  make  me  relish  for  deserts,  400 

And  one  by  one,  with  shame  and  fear, 

Lick  up  the  candy'd  provender. 

Beside  —  But  as  h'  was  running  on. 

To  "tell  what  other  feats  h'  had  done. 


PART    ni.       CANTO    I.  273 

The  Lady  stopt  his  full  career,  405 

And  told  him  now  'twas  time  to  hear. 
If  half  those  things  (said  she)  be  true  — 
They  're  all  (quoth  he),  I  swear  by  you:  — 
"Why  then  (said  she)  that  Sidrophel 
Has  damn'd  himself  to  th'  pit  of  hell,  4io 

"Who,  mounted  on  a  broom,  the  nag 
And  hackney  of  a  Lapland  hag, 
Li  quest  of  you  came  hither  post, 
"Within  an  hour  (I  'm  sure)  at  most, 
"Who  told  me  all  you  swear  and  say,  415 

■  Quite  contrary  another  way  ; 
Yow'd  that  you  came  to  him,  to  know 
If  you  should  carry  me  or  no ; 
And  would  have  hir'd  him  and  his  imps, 
To  be  your  match-makers  and  pimps,  420 

T'  engage  the  devil  on  your  side, 
And  steal  (like  Proserpine)  your  bride ; 
But  he  disdaining  to  embrace 
So  filthy  a  design  and  base. 

You  fell  to  vapouring  and  huffing,  423 

And  drew  upon  him  like  a  ruffin  ; 
Surpris'd  him  meanly,  unprepar'd. 
Before  h'  had  time  to  mount  his  guard, 
And  left  him  dead  upon  the  ground, 
With  many  a  bruise  and  desp'rate  wound :        430 
Swore  you  had  broke  and  robb'd  his  house, 
And  stole  his  talismanic  louse. 
And  all  his  new-found  old  inventions, 
"With  flat  felonious  intentions ; 


274  HUDIBKAS. 

■Which  he  could  brmg  out  where  he  had,  435 

And  what  he  bought  them  for,  and  paid : 

His  flea,  his  morpion,  and  punese, 

H'  had  gotten  for  his  proper  ease, 

And  all  in  perfect  minutes  made, 

By  th'  ablest  artist  of  the  trade ;  44  0 

Which  (he  could  prove  it)  since  he  lost 

He  has  been  eaten  up  almost ; 

And  altogether  might  amount 

To  many  hundreds  on  account: 

Yor  which  h'  had  got  sufficient  warrant  445 

To  seize  the  malefactors  errant, 

Without  capacity  of  bail, 

But  of  a  cart's  or  horse's  tail ; 

And  did  not  doubt  to  bring  the  wretches 

To  serve  for  pendulums  to  watches ;  460 

Which,  modern  virtuosis  say. 

Incline  to  hanging  every  Avay. 

Beside,  he  swore,  and  swore  'twas  true, 

That  ere  he  went  in  quest  of  you, 

He  set  a  figure  to  discover  455 

If  you  were  fled  to  Rye  or  Dover ; 

And  found  it  clear  that,  to  betray 

Yourselves  and  me,  you  fled  this  way ; 

And  that  he  was  upon  pursuit. 

To  take  you  somewhere  hereabout. 

He  vow'd  he  had  intelligence 

Of  all  that  pass'd  before  and  since, 

And  found  that,  ere  you  came  to  him, 

Y'  had  been  engaging  life  and  Umb 


460 


PART   III.      CANTO   I.  275 

"About  a  case  of  tender  conscience,  465 

Where  both  abounded  in  your  own  sense, 
Till  Ralpho,  by  his  light  and  grace, 
Had  clear'd  all  scruples  in  the  case ; 
And  prov'd  that  you  might  swear  and  own 
Whatever  's  by  the  Wicked  done  ;  470 

For  which,  most  basely  to  requite 
The  service  of  his  gifts  and  light. 
You  strove  t'  oblige  him,  by  main  force. 
To  scourge  his  ribs  instead  of  yours  ; 
But  that  he  stood  upon  his  guard,  475 

And  all  your  vapouring  out-dar'd ; 
For  which,  between  you  both,  the  feat 
Has  never  been  perform'd  as  yet. 

While  thus  the  Lady  talk'd,  the  Knight 
Turn'd  th'  outside  of  his  eyes  to  white  480 

(As  men  of  inward  light  are  wont 
To  turn  their  optics  in  upon  't)  ; 
He  wonder'd  how  she  came  to  know 
What  he  had  done,  and  meant  to  do : 
Held  up  his  affidavit-hand,  485 

As  if  h'  had  been  to  be  arraign'd ; 
Cast  towards  the  door  a  ghastly  look, 
In  dread  of  Sidrophel,  and  spoke : 

Madam,  if  but  one  word  be  true 
Of  all  the  wizard  has  told  you,  490 

Or  but  one  single  circumstance 
In  all  th'  apocryphal  romance, 
May  dreadful  earthquakes  swallow  down 
This  vessel,  that  is  all  your  own ; 


276  HUDIBRAS. 

Or  may  the  heavens  fall  and  cover  495 

These  reliques  of  your  constant  lover. 

You  have  provided  well  (quoth  she), 
(I  thank  you)  for  yourself  and  me, 
And  shewn  your  Presbyterian  wits 
Jump  punctual  with  the  Jesuits' ;  soo 

A  most  compendious  way  and  civil, 
At  once  to  cheat  the  world,  the  devil. 
And  heaven  and  hell,  yourselves,  and  those 
On  whom  you  vainly  think  t'  impose. 
Why  then  (quoth  he),  may  hell  surprise —       605 
That  trick  (said  she)  will  not  pass  twice : 
I  've  leai-n'd  how  far  I  'm  to  believe 
Your  pinning  oaths  upon  your  sleeve ; 
But  there  's  a  better  way  of  clearing 
What  you  would  pi-ove,  than  downright  swearing ; 
For  if  you  have  perform'd  the  feat, 
The  blows  are  visible  as  yet. 
Enough  to  serve  for  satisfaction 
Of  nicest  scruples  in  the  action ; 
And  if  you  can  produce  those  knobs,  616 

Although  they  're  but  the  witch's  drubs, 
I  '11  pass  them  all  upon  account, 
As  if  your  nat'ral  self  had  done  't ; 
Provided  that  they  pass  th'  opinion 
Of  able  juries  of  old  women ;  eao 

Who,  us'd  to  judge  all  matter  of  facts 
For  belhes,  may  do  so  for  backs. 

Madam  (quoth  he),  your  love  's  a  million, 
To  do  is  less  than  to  be  willing, 


PART    III.       CANTO    I.  277 

As  I  am,  were  it  in  ray  power  625 

T'  obey  what  you  command,  and  more ; 

But  for  performing  what  you  bid, 

I  thank  you  as  much  as  if  I  did. 

You  know  I  ought  to  have  a  care 

To  keep  my  wounds  from  taking  air ;  S30 

For  wounds  in  those  that  are  all  heart, 

Are  dangerous  in  any  part. 

I  find  (quoth  she)  my  goods  and  chattels 
Are  like  to  prove  but  mere  drawn  battles ; 
For  still  the  longer  we  contend,  535 

"We  are  but  farther  off  the  end ; 
But  granting  now  we  should  agree, 
What  is  it  you  expect  from  me  ? 
Your  plighted  faith  (quoth  he)  and  word 
You  past  in  heaven  on  record,  540 

Where  all  contracts,  to  have  and  t'  hold, 
Are  everlastingly  enroU'd ; 
And  if  'tis  counted  treason  here 
To  raze  records,  'tis  much  more  there. 

Quoth  she.  There  are  no  bargains  driv'n        545 
Nor  marriages  clapp'd  up  in  heav'n. 
And  that 's  the  reason,  as  some  guess, 
There  is  no  heav'n  in  marinages ; 
Two  things  that  naturally  press 
Too  narrowly  to  be  at  ease  ;  650 

Their  bus'ness  there  is  only  love. 
Which  marriage  is  not  like  t'  improve ; 
Love,  that  's  too  generous  t'  abide 
To  be  against  its  nature  ty'd ; 


278  HUDIBRAS. 

For  where  'tis  of  itself  inclin'd,  sss 

It  breaks  loose  when  it  is  confin'd, 

And  like  the  soul,  its  harbourer, 

Debarr'd  the  freedom  of  the  air, 

Disdains  against  its  wiU  to  stay, 

But  struggles  out  and  flies  away ;  sco 

And  therefore  never  can  comply 

T'  endure  the  matrimonial  tie, 

That  binds  the  female  and  the  male, 

Where  th'  one  is  but  the  other's  bail ; 

Like  Roman  gaolers,  when  they  slept  666 

Chain'd  to  the  prisoners  they  kept. 

Of  which  the  true  and  faithful'st  lover, 

Gives  best  security  to  suffer. 

Marriage  is  but  a  beast  some  say. 

That  carries  double  in  foul  way,  570 

And  therefore  'tis  not  to  b'  admir'd 

It  should  so  suddenly  be  tir'd : 

A  bargain,  at  a  venture  made, 

Between  two  partners  in  a  trade  ; 

(For  what  's  inferr'd  by  t'  have  and  t'  hold,       575 

But  something  past  away,  and  sold  ?) 

That,  as  it  makes  but  one  of  two. 

Reduces  all  things  else  as  low ; 

And  at  the  best  is  but  a  mart. 

Between  the  one  and  th'  other  part,  S80 

That  on  the  marriage-day  is  paid. 

Or  hour  of  death,  the  bet  is  laid  ; 

And  all  the  rest  of  better  or  worse, 

Both  are  but  losers  out  of  purse : 


PART   III.      CANTO    I.  279 

For  when  upon  their  ungot  heirs  385 

Th'  entail  themselves,  and  all  that 's  theirs, 

"What  blinder  bargain  e'er  was  driv'n, 

Or  wager  laid  at  six  and  sev'n  ? 

To  pass  themselves  away,  and  turn 

Their  children's  tenants  ere  they  're  born?         690 

Beg  one  another  idiot 

To  guardians,  ere  they  are  begot ; 

Or  ever  shall,  perhaps,  by  th'  one 

"VYlio  's  bound  to  vouch  'em  for  his  own, 

Though  got  b'  implicit  generation,  695 

And  gen'ral  club  of  all  the  nation ; 

For  which  she  's  fortify'd  no  less 

Than  all  the  island,  with  four  seas ; 

Exacts  the  tribute  of  her  dower, 

In  ready  insolence  and  power,  600 

And  makes  him  pass  away,  to  have 

And  hold,  to  her,  himself,  her  slave. 

More  wretched  than  an  ancient  villain, 

Condemn'd  to  drudgery  and  tilhng  : 

While  all  he  does  upon  the  by,  605 

She  is  not  bound  to  justify. 

Nor  at  her  proper  cost  and  charge 

Maintain  the  feats  he  does  at  large. 

Such  hideous  sots  were  those  obedient 

Old  vassals,  to  their  ladies- regent,  6io 

To  give  the  cheats  the  eldest  hand 

In  foul  play,  by  the  laws  o'  th'  land ; 

For  which  so  many  a  legal  cuckold 

Has  been  run  down  in  courts,  and  truckled : 


280  HUDIBKAS. 

A  law  that  most  unjustly  yokes  6i5 

All  Johns  of  Stiles  to  Joans  of  Noakes, 

Without  distinction  of  degree. 

Condition,  age,  or  quality ; 

Admits  no  pow'r  of  revocation, 

Nor  valuable  consideration,  62C 

Nor  writ  of  Error,  nor  reverse 

Of  judgment  past,  for  better  or  worse  ; 

"Will  not  allow  the  privileges 

That  beggars  challenge  under  hedges, 

Who,  when  they  're  griev'd,  can  make  dead  horses 

Their  sp'ritual  judges  of  divorces, 

Wliile  nothing  else  but  rem  in  re 

Can  set  the  proudest  wretches  free ; 

A  slavery  beyond  enduring, 

But  that  'tis  of  their  own  procuring.  630 

As  spiders  never  seek  the  fly, 

But  leave  him  of  himself  t'  apply  ; 

So  men  are  by  themselves  employ'd, 

To  quit  the  freedom  they  enjoy 'd. 

And  run  their  necks  into  a  noose,  636 

They  'd  break  'em  after  to  break  loose. 

As  some  whom  death  would  not  depart, 

Have  done  the  feat  themselves  by  art : 

Like  Indian  widows,  gone  to  bed. 

In  flaming  curtains,  to  the  dead ;  640 

And  men  as  often  dangled  for  't, 

And  yet  will  never  leave  the  sport. 

Nor  do  the  ladies  want  excuse 

For  all  the  stratagems  they  use, 


PART  III.   CANTO  I.  281 

To  gain  th'  advantage  of  the  set,  ets 

And  lurch  the  amorous  rook  and  cheat. 

For  as  the  Pythagorean  soul 

Runs  through  all  beasts,  and  fish,  and  fowl, 

And  has  a  smack  of  ev'ry  one, 

So  love  does,  and  has  ever  done ;  eso 

And  therefore  though  'tis  ne'er  so  fond, 

Takes  strangely  to  the  vagabond. 

'Tis  but  an  ague  that 's  reverst, 

Wliose  hot  fit  takes  the  patient  first, 

That  after  burns  with  cold  as  much  655 

As  iron  in  Greenland  does  the  touch ; 

Melts  in  the  furnace  of  desire 

Like  glass,  that  's  but  the  ice  of  fire ; 

And  when  his  heat  of  fancy  's  over,  ^\,  > 

Becomes  as  hard  and  frail  a  lover :       .     -^  "       eeo 

For  when  he  's  with  love-powder  laden, 

And  prim'd  and  cock'd  by  Miss  or  Madam, 

The  smallest  sparkle  of  an  eye 

Gives  fire  to  his  artUleiy, 

And  off  the  loud  oaths  go,  but,  while  665 

They  're  in  the  very  act,  recoil : 

Hence  'tis  so  few  dare  take  their  chance 

"Without  a  sep'rate  maintenance  ; 

And  widows,  who  have  try'd  one  lover. 

Trust  none  again  till  they  've  made  over ;  e-o 

Or  if  they  do,  before  they  marry 

The  foxes  weigh  the  geese  they  carry ; 

And  ere  they  venture  o'er  a  stream. 

Know  how  to  size  themselves  and  them. 

VOL.  I.  22 


282  HUDIBRAS. 

Whence  wittiest  ladies  always  choose  676 

To  undertake  the  heaviest  goose  : 

For  now  the  world  is  gi-own  so  wary, 

That  few  of  either  sex  dare  marry, 

But  rather  trust  on  tick  t'  amours, 

The  cross  and  pile  for  bett'r  or  worse ;  tiso 

A  mode  that  is  held  honourable 

As  well  as  French  and  fashionable : 

For  when  it  falls  out  for  the  best, 

"Where  both  are  incommoded  least. 

In  soul  and  body  two  unite  685 

To  make  up  one  hermaphrodite  ; 

Still  amorous,  and  fond,  and  billing, 

Like  Philip  and  Mary  on  a  shilHng, 

They  've  more  punctilios  and  capriches 

Between  the  petticoat  and  breeches ;  69o 

More  petulent  extravagances 

Than  poets  make  'em  in  romances  ; 

Though  when  their  heroes  'spou?e  the  dames, 

tVe  hear  no  more  of  charms  and  flames ; 

For  then  their  late  attracts  decline  tiss 

And  turn  as  eager  as  prick'd  wine  ; 

And  all  their  caterwauling  tricks. 

In  earnest  to  as  jealous  piques  : 

Which  th'  ancients  wisely  signify'd 

By  th'  yellow  manteaus  of  the  bride  ;  7J0 

For  jealousy  is  but  a  kind 

Of  clap  and  grincam  of  the  mind, 

The  natural  effects  of  love. 

As  other  flames  and  aches  prove : 


PABT   III.      CANTO    I.  283 

But  all  the  mischief  is  the  doubt  loa 

On  whose  account  they  first  broke  out. 

For  though  Chineses  go  to  bed 

And  lie-in,  in  their  ladies'  stead ; 

And,  for  the  pains  they  took  before, 

Are  nurs'd  and  pamper'd  to  do  more ;  7io 

Our  green-men  do  it  worse,  when  th'  hap 

To  fall  m  labour  of  a  clap  ; 

Both  lay  the  child  to  one  another, 

But  who  's  the  father  ?  who  the  mother  ? 

'Tis  hard  to  say  in  multitudes,  7i5 

Or  who  imported  the  French  goods. 

But  health  and  sickness  b'ing  all  one, 

Which  both  engag'd  before  to  own. 

And  are  not  with  their  bodies  bound 

To  worship,  only  when  they  're  sound ;  720 

Both  give  and  take  their  equal  shares 

Of  all  they  suffer  by  false  wares ; 

A  fate  no  lover  can  divert 

With  all  his  caution,  wit,  and  art : 

For  'tis  in  vain  to  think  to  guess  725 

At  women  by  appearances  ; 

That  paint  and  patch  their  imperfections, 

Of  intellectual  complexions. 

And  daub  their  tempers  o'er  with  washes 

As  artificial  as  their  faces :  730 

Wear,  under  vizard-masks,  their  talents 

And  mother-wits,  before  their  gallants  ; 

Until  they  're  hamper'd  in  the  noose. 

Too  fast  to  dream  of  breaking  loose : 


284  HUDIBRAS, 

When  all  the  flaws  they  strove  to  hide  735 

Are  made  unready  with  the  bride, 

That  with  her  wedding-clothes  undresses 

Her  complaisance  and  gentilesses  ; 

Tries  all  her  arts  to  take  upon  her 

The  government  from  th'  easy  owner ;  740 

Until  the  wretch  is  glad  to  wave 

His  lawful  right,  and  turn  her  slave ; 

Find  all  his  having  and  his  holding 

Reduc'd  t'  eternal  noise  and  scolding ; 

The  conjugal  petard,  that  tears  745 

Down  all  portcullices  of  ears, 

And  makes  the  volley  of  one  tongue 

For  all  their  leathern  shields  too  strong. 

When  only  ann'd  with  noise  and  nails. 

The  female  silk -worms  ride  the  males  ;  750 

Transform  'em  into  rams  and  goats 

Like  Syrens,  with  their  charming  notes  ; 

Sweet  as  the  screech-owl's  serenade, 

Or  those  enchanting  murmurs  made 

By  th'  husband  mandrake,  and  the  wife,  765 

Both  bury'd  (like  themselves)  alive. 

Quoth  he.  These  reasons  are  but  strains 
Of  wanton,  over-heated  brains, 
"Which  ralliers  in  their  wit  or  drink 
Do  rather  wheedle  with  than  think.  760 

Man  was  not  man  in  Paradise, 
Untn  he  was  created  twice  ; 
And  had  his  better  half,  his  bride, 
Carv'd  from  th'  original,  his  side. 


PART   III.      CANTO   I.  285 

T'  amend  his  natural  defects,  765 

And  perfect  his  recruiting  sex ; 

Enlarge  his  breed  at  once,  and  lessen 

The  pains  and  labour  of  increasing. 

By  changing  them  for  other  cares, 

As  by  his  dried-up  paps  appears.  770 

His  body,  that  stupendous  frame. 

Of  all  the  world  the  anagram, 

Is  of  two  equal  parts  compact. 

La  shape  and  symmetry  exact; 

Of  which  the  left  and  female  side  775 

Is  to  the  manly  right  a  bride  ; 

Both  join'd  together  with  such  art, 

That  nothing  else  but  death  can  part. 

Those  heav'nly  attracts  of  yours,  your  eyes. 

And  face,  that  all  the  world  surprise,  780 

That  dazzle  all  that  look  upon  ye, 

And  scorch  aU  other  ladies  tawny ; 

Those  ravishing  and  charming  graces, 

Are  all  made  up  of  two  half-faces, 

That,  in  a  mathematic  line,  765 

Like  those  in  other  heavens,  join  : 

Of  which,  if  either  grew  alone, 

'Twould  fright  as  much  to  look  upon : 

And  so  would  that  sweet  bud,  your  hp, 

Without  the  other's  fellowship.  790 

Our  noblest  senses  act  by  pairs. 

Two  eyes  to  see  ;  to  hear,  two  ears ; 

Th'  intelHgencers  of  the  mind. 

To  wait  upon  the  soul  design'd : 


286  HUDIBEAS. 

But  those  that  serve  the  body'  alone  798 

Are  smgle  and  confin'd  to  one. 

The  world  is  but  two  parts,  that  meet 

And  close  at  th'  equmoctial  fit ; 

And  so  are  aU  the  works  of  Nature, 

Stamp'd  with  her  signature  on  matter ;  soo 

Which  aU  her  creatures,  to  a  leaf, 

Or  smallest  blade  of  grass,  receive. 

All  which  sufficiently  declare 

How  entirely  marriage  is  her  care, 

The  only  method  that  she  uses  805 

In  all  the  wonders  she  produces ; 

And  those  that  take  their  rules  from  her 

Can  never  be  deceiv'd,  nor  err  : 

For  what  secures  the  civil  life. 

But  pawns  of  children,  and  a  wife  ?  sio 

That  lie,  Hke  hostages,  at  stake, 

To  pay  for  all  men  undertake ; 

To  whom  it  is  as  necessary. 

As  to  be  borne  and  breathe,  to  marry ; 

So  universal,  all  mankind  sis 

In  nothing  else  is  of  one  mind ; 

For  in  what  stupid  age  or  nation 

Was  marriage  ever  out  of  fashion  ? 

Unless  among  the  Amazons, 

Or  cloister'd  Friars  and  Vestal  nuns,  820 

Or  Stoics,  who,  to  bar  the  freaks 

And  loose  excesses  of  the  sex, 

Prepost'rously  would  have  all  women 

Turn'd  up  to  aU  the  world  in  common. 


PART   III.      CANTO    I.  287 

Though  men  would  find  such  mortal  feuds         8-35 

In  sharing  of  their  public  goods, 

'Twould  put  them  to  more  charge  of  lives 

Than  they  're  supply'd  with  now  by  wives, 

Until  they  graze,  and  wear  their  clothes. 

As  beasts  do,  of  their  native  growths  ;  830 

For  simple  wearing  of  their  horns 

Will  not  suffice  to  serve  their  turns. 

For  what  can  we  pretend  t'  inherit. 

Unless  the  marriage-deed  wUl  bear  it  ? 

Could  claim  no  right  to  lands  or  rents,  835 

But  for  our  parents'  settlements  ; 

Had  been  but  younger  sons  o'  th'  earth 

Debarr'd  it  all,  but  for  our  bu-th. 

Wliat  honours,  or  estates  of  peers. 

Could  be  preserv'd  but  by  their  heirs  ?  840 

And  what  security  maintains 

Their  right  and  title,  but  the  banns  ? 

What  crowns  could  be  hereditary, 

If  greatest  monarchs  did  not  marry, 

Ajid  with  their  consorts  consummate  645 

Their  weightiest  interests  of  state  ? 

For  all  th'  amours  of  princes  are 

But  guarantees  of  peace  or  war. 

Or  what  but  marriage  has  a  charm, 

The  rage  of  empires  to  disarm  ?  850 

Make  blood  and  desolation  cease, 

And  fire  and  sword  unite  in  peace ; 

When  all  their  fierce  contests  for  forage 

Conclude  in  articles  of  marriage. 


288  HUDIBRAS. 

Nor  does  tlie  genial  bed  provide  855 

Less  for  the  int'rests  of  the  bride, 

"Who  else  had  not  the  least  pretence 

T'  as  much  as  due  benevolence  ; 

Could  no  more  title  take  upon  her 

To  vu'tue,  quality,  and  honour,  S60 

Than  ladies  errant  unconfin'd, 

And  feme-coverts  to  all  mankind. 

All  women  would  be  of  one  piece. 

The  virtuous  matron,  and  the  miss ; 

The  nymphs  of  chaste  Diana's  train,  865 

The  same  with  those  in  Lewkner's  lane  ; 

But  for  the  diff 'rence  marriage  makes 

'Twixt  wives  and  ladies  of  the  Lakes : 

Besides  the  joys  of  place  and  birth. 

The  sex's  paradise  on  earth,  670 

A  privilege  so  sacred  held 

That  none  wiU  to  their  mothers  yield. 

But,  rather  than  not  go  before. 

Abandon  heaven  at  the  door: 

And  if  th'  indulgent  law  aUows  875 

A  greater  freedom  to  the  spouse, 

The  reason  is,  because  the  wife 

Runs  greater  hazards  of  her  life  ; 

Is  trusted  with  the  form  and  matter 

Of  all  mankind  by  careful  Nature  ;  sso 

Where  man  brings  nothing  but  the  stuff 

She  frames  the  wondrous  fabric  of; 

Who  therefore,  in  a  strait,  may  freely 

Demand  the  clergy  of  her  belly ; 


PART   III.      CANTO   I.  289 

And  make  it  save  her  the  same  way  sss 

It  seldom  misses  to  betray, 

Unless  both  pai'ties  wisely  enter 

Into  the  Liturgy  indenture. 

And  though  some  fits  of  small  contest 

Sometimes  fall  out  among  the  best,  sqo 

That  is  no  more  than  every  lover 

Does  from  his  hackney-lady  suffer; 

That  makes  no  breach  of  faith  and  love, 

But  rather  sometimes  serves  t'  improve : 

For  as,  in  running,  every  pace  895 

Is  but  between  two  legs  a  race. 

In  wliich  both  do  their  uttermost 

To  get  before  and  win  the  post, 

Yet,  when  they  're  at  their  races'  ends, 

They  're  stUl  as  kind  and  constant  friends,         900 

And,  to  reheve  their  weariness, 

By  turns  give  one  another  ease ; 

So  all  those  false  alarms  of  strife 

Between  the  husband  and  the  wife, 

And  little  quarrels,  often  prove  905 

To  be  but  new  recruits  of  love. 

When  those  who  're  always  kind  or  coy 

In  time  must  either  tire  or  cloy. 

Nor  are  the  loudest  clamours  more 

Than  as  they  're  relish'd  sweet  or  sour  ;  9;o 

Like  music,  that  proves  bad  or  good 

According  as  'tis  understood. 

In  all  amours  a  lover  burns 

"With  frowns,  as  well  as  smiles,  by  turns  ; 


290  HUDIBRAS. 

And  hearts  have  been  as  oft  with  sullen  sis 

As  charming  looks  surpris'd  and  stolen  : 

Then  why  should  more  bewitching  clamour 

Some  lovers  not  as  much  enamour  ? 

For  discords  make  the  sweetest  airs, 

And  curses  are  a  kind  of  pray'rs ;  920 

Two  slight  alloys  for  all  those  grand 

Felicities  by  marriage  gain'd : 

For  nothing  else  has  power  to  settle 

The  interests  of  love  perpetual. 

An  act  and  deed  that  makes  one  heart  925 

Become  another's  counter-part, 

And  passes  fines  on  faith  and  love, 

InroU'd  and  register'd  above, 

To  seal  the  shppery  knots  of  vows, 

"Wliich  nothing  else  but  death  can  loose.  93o 

And  what  security  's  too  strong 

To  guard  that  gentle  heart  from  wrong 

That  to  its  friend  is  glad  to  pass 

Itself  away  and  all  it  has. 

And,  like  an  anchorite,  gives  over  935 

This  world  for  th'  heaven  of  a  lover  ? 

I  grant  (quoth  she)  there  are  some  few 
Who  take  that  course,  and  find  it  true, 
But  millions  whom  the  same  does  sentence 
To  heav'n  b'  another  way,  repentance.  S40 

Love's  arrows  are  but  shot  at  rovers, 
Though  all  they  hit  they  turn  to  lovers, 
And  all  the  weighty  consequents 
Depend  upon  more  bUnd  events 


PART  in.      CANTO   I.  291 

Than  gamesters,  when  they  play  a  set  945 

With  greatest  cunning  at  Piquet, 

Put  out  with  caution,  but  take  in 

They  know  not  what,  unsight  unseen. 

For  what  do  lovers,  when  they  're  fast 

In  one  another's  arms  embrac'd,  950 

But  strive  to  plunder,  and  convey 

Each  other,  hke  a  prize,  away  ? 

To  change  the  property  of  selves. 

As  sucking  children  are  by  elves  ? 

And  if  they  use  their  persons  so,  95s 

What  will  they  to  their  fortunes  do  ? 

Their  fortunes !  the  perpetual  aims 

Of  all  their  ecstasies  and  flames. 

For  when  the  money  's  on  the  book, 

And  '  All  my  worldly  goods  '  but  spoke  960 

(The  formal  livery  and  seisin 

That  puts  a  lover  in  possession). 

To  that  alone  the  bridegroom 's  wedded, 

The  bride  a  flam  that 's  superseded : 

To  that  their  faith  is  still  made  good,  965 

And  all  the  oaths  to  us  they  vow'd ; 

For  when  we  once  resign  our  pow'rs. 

We  've  nothing  left  we  can  call  ours ; 

Our  money  's  now  become  the  Miss 

Of  all  your  lives  and  services,  970 

And  we,  forsaken  and  postpon'd. 

But  bawds  to  what  before  we  own'd ; 

WTiich,  as  it  made  y'  at  first  gallant  us, 

So  now  hires  others  to  supplant  us, 


292  HUDIBRAS. 

Until  'tis  all  turn'd  out  of  doors  87 a 

(As  we  had  been)  for  new  amours. 

For  what  did  ever  heiress  yet, 

By  being  born  to  lordships,  get  ? 

'^Vlien,  the  more  lady  she  's  of  manors. 

She  's  but  expos'd  to  more  trepanners,  qso 

Pays  for  their  projects  and  designs. 

And  for  her  own  destruction  fines ; 

And  does  but  tempt  them  with  her  riches, 

To  use  her  as  the  dev'l  does  witches. 

Who  takes  it  for  a  special  grace  985 

To  be  their  cully  for  a  space, 

That,  when  the  time  's  expir'd,  the  drazels 

For  ever  may  become  his  vassals  ; 

So  she,  bewitch'd  by  rooks  and  spirits, 

Betrays  herself  and  all  sh'  inherits ;  99o 

Is  bought  and  sold,  like  stolen  goods, 

By  pimps,  and  match-makers,  and  bawds  ; 

Until  they  force  her  to  convey 

And  steal  the  thief  himself  away. 

These  are  the  everlasting  fruits  995 

Of  aU  your  passionate  love-suits, 

Th'  effects  of  all  your  am'rous  fancies 

To  portions  and  inheritances  ; 

Your  love-sick  rapture,  for  fruition 

Of  dowry,  jointure,  and  tuition  ;  1000 

To  which  you  make  address  and  courtship, 

And  with  your  bodies  strive  to  worship, 

That  th'  infant's  fortunes  may  partake 

Of  love  too  for  the  mother's  sake. 


PART   III.      CANTO    I.  29o 

For  tliese  you  play  at  purjDoses,  loos 

And  love  your  loves  Vvitli  A's  and  B's  ; 

For  these  at  Beste  and  L'Ombre  avoo, 

And  play  for  love  and  money  too : 

Strive  who  shall  be  the  ablest  man 

At  right  gallanting  of  a  fan  ;  loio 

And  who  the  most  genteelly  bred 

At  sucking  of  a  vizard-bead ; 

How  best  t'  accost  us  in  all  quarters, 

T'  our  question-and-command  new  garters ; 

And  solidly  discourse  upon  ^     lois 

All  sorts  of  dresses  pro  and  con  : 

For  there  's  no  mystery  nor  trade 

But  in  the  art  of  love  is  made ; 

And  when  you  have  more  debts  to  pay 

Than  Michaelmas  and  Lady-day,  1020 

And  no  way  possible  to  do  't 

But  love  and  oaths,  and  restless  suit, 

To  us  y'  apply  to  pay  the  scores 

Of  all  your  cully'd  past  amours ; 

Act  o'er  your  flames  and  darts  again,  1025 

And  charge  us  with  your  wounds  and  pain, 

Wliich  others'  influences  Ions:  since 

Have  charm'd  your  noses  wath  and  shins. 

For  which  the  surgeon  is  unpaid, 

And  like  to  be  without  our  aid.  1030 

Lord !  what  an  am'rous  thing  is  want ! 

How  debts  and  mortgages  inchant ! 

What  graces  must  that  lady  have 

That  can  from  executions  save ! 


294  HUDIBRAS. 

What  charms  that  can  reverse  extent,  1035 

And  null  degree  and  exigent ! 

Wliat  magical  attracts  and  graces 

That  can  redeem  from  Scire  facias, 

From  bonds  and  statutes  can  discharge, 

And  from  contempts  of  courts  enlarge !  ic40 

These  are  the  highest  excellences 

Of  all  your  true  or  false  pi'etences ; 

And  you  would  damn  yourselves,  and  swear 

As  much  t'  an  hostess  dowager, 

Grow^  fat  and  pursy  by  retail  104.5 

Of  pots  of  beer  and  bottled  ale, 

And  find  her  fitter  for  your  turn. 

For  fat  is  wondrous  apt  to  burn  ; 

Wlio  at  your  flames  would  soon  take  fire. 

Relent  and  melt  to  your  desire,  losd 

And,  like  a  candle  in  the  socket. 

Dissolve  her  graces  int'  your  pocket. 

By  this  time  'twas  grown  dark  and  late, 
'SVlien  they'  heard  a  knocking  at  the  gate. 
Laid  on  in  haste,  with  such  a  powder,  1055 

V.  1053,  1054.  The  persons  who  knocked  at  the  gate  were, 
probably,  two  of  the  lady's  own  servants:  for  as  she  and 
Ralpho  (who  all  the  time  lay  in  ambuscade)  had  been  de- 
scanting on  the  Knight's  villanies,  so  they  had  undoubtecUy 
laid  this  scheme  to  be  revenged  of  him :  the  servants  were 
disguised,  and  acted  in  a  bold  and  hectoring  manner,  pursuant 
to  the  instructions  given  them  by  the  Widow.  The  Knight 
was  to  be  made  believe  they  were  Sidrophel  and  Whachum, 
which  made  his  fright  and  consternation  so  great  that  we 
find  him  fallin<r  into  a  swoon. 


PAST  in.   CANTO  I.         295 

The  blows  grew  louder  still  and  louder ; 

Which  Hudibras,  as  if  they  'd  been 

Bestow'd  as  freely  on  his  skin, 

Expounding  by  his  inward  light, 

Or  rather  more  prophetic  fright,  loeo 

To  be  the  Wizard  come  to  search, 

And  take  him  napping  in  the  lurch, 

Turn'd  pale  as  ashes  or  a  clout. 

But  why  or  wherefore  is  a  doubt ; 

For  men  will  tremble,  and  turn  paler,  io65 

With  too  much  or  too  little  valour. 

His  heart  laid  on,  as  if  it  try'd 

To  force  a  passage  through  his  side. 

Impatient  (as  he  vow'd)  to  wait  'em. 

But  in  a  fury  to  fly  at  'em ;  i070 

And  therefore  beat  and  laid  about. 

To  find  a  cranny  to  creep  out. 

But  she,  who  saw  in  what  a  taking 

The  Knight  was  by  his  furious  quaking. 

Undaunted  cry'd.  Courage,  Sir  Knight,  1075 

Know  I  'm  resolv'd  to  break  no  rite 

Of  hospital'ty  to  a  stranger, 

But,  to  secure  you  out  of  danger, 

Will  here  myself  stand  sentinel 

To  guard  this  pass  'gainst  Sidrophel.  loso 

Women,  you  know,  do  seldom  fail 

To  make  the  stoutest  men  turn  tail. 

And  bravely  scorn  to  turn  their  backs 

Upon  the  desp'ratest  attacks. 

At  this  the  Knight  grew  resolute  loss 


29G  HUDIBRAS. 

As  Ironside  or  Hardiknute  ; 

His  fortitude  began  to  rally, 

And  out  he  cry'd  aloud  to  sally : 

But  she  besought  him  to  convey 

His  courage  rather  out  o'  th'  way,  io9o 

And  lodge  in  ambush  on  the  floor. 

Or  fortify'd  behind  a  door. 

That,  if  the  enemy  should  enter, 

He  might  relieve  her  in  th'  adventure. 

Meanwhile  they  knock'd  against  the  door     loss 
As  fierce  as  at  the  gate  before  ; 
Which  made  the  renegado  Knight 
Relapse  again  t'  his  former  fright. 
He  thought  it  desperate  to  stay 
Till  th'  enemy  had  forc'd  his  way,  iioo 

But  rather  post  himself,  to  serve 
The  Lady  for  a  fresh  reserve. 
His  duty  was  not  to  dispute, 
But  what  sh'  had  order'd  execute ; 
Which  he  resolv'd  in  haste  t'  obey,  iios 

And  therefore  stoutly  march'd  away, 
And  all  h'  encounter'd  fell  upon. 
Though  in  the  dark,  and  all  alone ; 
Till  fear,  that  braver  feats  performs 
Than  ever  courage  dar'd  in  arms,  iiio 

Had  drawn  him  up  before  a  pass, 
To  stand  upon  his  guard,  and  face : 


V.  1086.    Two  famous  and  valiant  princes  of  this  country, 
the  one  a  Saxon,  the  other  a  Dane. 


PART   III.      CANTO    I.  2S:>7 

This  he  courageously  invaded, 

And,  having  enter'd,  barricaded  ; 

Insconc'd  himself  as  formidable  nis 

As  could  be  underneath  a  table, 

Where  he  lay  down  in  ambush  close, 

T'  expect  th'  arrival  of  his  foes. 

Few  minutes  he  had  lain  perdue, 

To  guard  his  desp'rate  avenue,  n^o 

Before  he  heard  a  dreadful  shout. 

As  loud  as  putting  to  the  rout, 

With  which  impatiently  alarm'd. 

He  fancy'd  th'  enemy  had  storm'd. 

And,  after  ent'ring,  Sidrophel  uio 

Was  fall'n  upon  the  guards  pell-mell : 

He  therefore  sent  out  all  his  senses 

To  brmg  him  in  intelligences, 

Wliich  vulgars,  out  of  ignorance, 

Mistake  for  falling  in  a  trance ;  iiso 

But  those  that  trade  in  geomancy 

Affirm  to  be  the  strength  of  fancy. 

In  which  the  Lapland  Magi  deal, 

And  things  incredible  reveal. 

Meanwhile  the  foe  beat  up  his  quarters,  1135 

And  storm'd  the  outworks  of  his  fortress  ; 

And  as  another  of  the  same 

Degree  and  party  in  arms  and  fame. 

That  in  the  same  cause  had  eno-as'd, 

»  DO? 

And  war  with  equal  conduct  wag'd,  luo 

By  vent'ring  only  but  to  thrust 
His  head  a  span  beyond  his  post, 
VOL.  I.  23 


998  HUDIBRAS. 

B'  a  general  of  the  Cavaliers 

Was  dragg'd  through  a  window  by  the  ears ; 

So  he  was  serv'd  in  his  redoubt,  ii4s 

And  by  the  other  end  puU'd  out. 

Soon  as  they  had  him  at  their  mercy, 
They  put  him  to  the  cudgel  fiercely. 
As  if  they  'd  scorn'd  to  trade  or  barter, 
By  giving  or  by  taking  quarter ;  iiso 

They  stoutly  on  his  quarters  laid. 
Until  his  scouts  came  in  t'  his  aid : 
For  when  a  man  is  past  his  sense, 
There  's  no  way  to  reduce  him  thence 
But  twinging  him  by  th'  ears  or  nose,  iisa 

Or  laying  on  of  heavy  blows  ; 
And,  if  that  will  not  do  the  deed. 
To  burning  with  hot  irons  proceed. 
No  sooner  was  he  come  t'  himself, 
But  on  his  neck  a  sturdy  elf  iieo 

Clapp'd,  in  a  trice,  his  cloven  hoof, 
And  thus  attack'd  him  with  reproof: 

Mortal,  thou,  art  betray'd  to  us 
B'  our  friend,  thy  evU  genius, 
Who,  for  thy  horrid  perjuries,  t:«5 

Thy  breach  of  faith,  and  turning  lies, 
The  Brethren's  privilege  (against 
The  Wicked),  on  themselves,  the  Saints, 
Has  here  thy  wretched  carcase  sent 
For  just  revenge  and  punishment,  j) 

Which  thou  hast  now  no  way  to  lessen 
But  by  an  open  free  confession  ; 


PART   III.      CANTO   I.  299 

For  if  we  catch  thee  failing  once, 
'Twill  fall  the  heavier  on  thy  bones. 

"What  made  thee  venture  to  betray  1175 

And  filch  the  Lady's  heart  away. 
To  spirit  her  to  matrimony  ?  — 
That  which  contracts  all  matches,  money. 
It  was  th'  inchantment  of  her  riches 
That  made  m'  apply  t'  your  crony  witches  ;     1180 
That  in  return  would  pay  th'  expense, 
The  wear  and  tear  of  conscience, 
"Which  I  could  have  patch'd  up  and  turn'd 
For  th'  hundredth  part  of  what  I  earn'd.  — 

Didst  thou  not  love  her  then  ?  speak  true.  — 
No  more  (quoth  he)  than  I  love  you.  — 
How  would'st  thou  'ave  us'd  her  and  her  money  ? — 
First  turn'd  her  up  to  alimony. 
And  laid  her  dowry  out  in  law 
To  null  her  jointure  with  a  flaw,  1190 

"Which  I  beforehand  had  agreed 
T'  have  put  on  purpose  in  the  deed. 
And  bar  her  widow's  making  over 
T'  a  friend  in  trust,  or  private  lover.  — 

What  made  thee  pick  and  choose  her  out     1195 
T'  employ  their  sorceries  about  ?  — 
That  which  makes  gamesters  play  with  those 
"Who  have  least  wit,  and  most  to  lose.  — 
But  didst  thou  scourge  thy  vessel  thus, 
As  thou  hast  damn'd  thyself  to  us  ?  —  1200 

I  see  you  take  me  for  an  ass  : 
'Tis  true,  I  thought  the  trick  would  pass 


300  HUDIBRAS. 

Upon  a  woman  well  enough, 

As  't  has  been  often  found  by  proof, 

Whose  humours  are  not  to  be  won  1205 

But  when  they  are  impos'd  upon  ; 

For  Love  approves  of  all  they  do 

That  stand  for  candidates,  and  woo.  — 

Why  didst  thou  forge  those  shameful  lies 
Of  bears  and  witches  in  disguise? —  1210 

That  is  no  more  than  authors  give 
The  rabble  credit  to  beheve ; 
A  trick  of  following  their  leaders 
To  entertain  their  gentle  readers  : 
And  we  have  now  no  other  way  1215 

Of  passing  aU  we  do  or  say ; 
Which,  when  'tis  natural  and  true, 
Will  be  believ'd  b'  a  very  few, 
Beside  the  danger  of  offence, 
The  fatal  enemy  of  sense.  —  1220 

Why  didst  thou  choose  that  cursed  sin, 
Hypocrisy,  to  set  up  in  ?  — 

Because  it  is  the  thriving'st  calling. 
The  only  saints'-bell  that  rings  all  in  ; 
In  which  aU  Churches  are  concern'd,  1225 

And  is  the  easiest  to  be  learn'd : 
For  no  degrees,  unless  they  employ  't, 
Can  ever  gain  much  or  enjoy  't : 
A  gift  that  is  not  only  able 

To  domineer  among  the  rabble,  1230 

But  by  the  laws  impower'd  to  rout 
And  awe  the  greatest  that  stand  out ; 


PART   III.      CANTO    I.  301 

Which  few  hold  forth  against,  for  fear 
Their  hands  should  slip  and  come  too  near ; 
For  no  sin  else,  among  the  Saints,  1235 

Is  taught  so  tenderly  against.  — 

What  made  thee  break  thy  plighted  vows  ?  — 
That  which  makes  others  break  a  house, 
And  hang,  and  scorn  you  all,  before 
Endure  the  plague  of  being  poor.  1240 

Quoth  he,  I  see  you  have  more  tricks 
Than  all  our  doting  politics, 
That  are  grown  old  and  out  of  fashion, 
Compar'd  with  your  new  Reformation ; 
That  we  must  come  to  school  to  you  1245 

To  learn  your  more  refin'd  and  new. 

Quoth  he.  If  you  will  give  me  leave 
To  tell  you  what  I  now  perceive. 
You  '11  find  yourself  an  errant  chouse 
If  y'  were  but  at  a  Meeting-house.  1280 

'Tis  true  (quoth  he),  we  ne'er  come  there, 
Because  w'  have  let  'em  out  by  th'  year. 

Truly  (quoth  he),  you  can't  imagine 
What  wondrous  things  they  will  engage  in  ; 
That  as  your  fellow  fiends  in  hell  1255 

Were  angels  all  before  they  fell, 
So  are  you  like  to  be  agen 
Compar'd  with  th'  angels  of  us  men. 

Quoth  he,  I  am  resolv'd  to  be 
Thy  scholar  in  this  mystery ;  12B(i 

Aiid  therefore  first  desire  to  know 
Some  principles  on  which  you  go. 


302  HUDIBKAS. 

What  makes  a  knave  a  child  of  God, 
And  one  of  us  ?  —  A  livelihood.  — 
What  renders  beating  out  of  brains  126a 

And  murther  godliness  ?  —  Great  gains. 

What  's  tender  conscience  ?  —  'Tis  a  botch 
That  will  not  bear  the  gentlest  touch  ; 
But,  breaking  out,  dispatches  more 
Than  th'  ej^idemical'st  plague-sore.  1270 

What  makes  y'  incroach  upon  our  trade, 
And  damn  all  others  ?  —  To  be  paid.  — 
What 's  orthodox  and  true  believing 
Against  a  conscience  ?  — A  good  living. 

What  makes  rebelling  against  kings  1275 

A  good  old  Cause  ?  —  Administ'rings. 

What  makes  all  doctrines  plain  and  clear  ?  — 
About  two  hundred  j^ounds  a-jear. 

And  that  which  was  prov'd  true  before 
Prove  false  again?  —  Two  hundred  more.        uso 

What  makes  the  breaking  of  all  oaths 
A  holy  duty  ?  —  Food  and  clothes. 

What  laws  and  freedom  persecution  ?  — 
B'ing  out  of  power  and  conti-ibution. 

Wliat  makes  a  church  a  den  of  thieves? —  i-2So 
A  dean  and  Chapter  and  white  sleeves. 

And  what  would  serve,  if  those  were  gone. 
To  make  it  orthodox?  —  Our  o'rti. 

What  makes  morality  a  crime 
The  most  notorious  of  the  time  ;  1290 

Morality,  which  both  the  Saints 
And  Wicked  too  cry  out  against  ?  — 


PART    III.       CANTO    I.  303 

'Cause  grace  and  virtue  are  within 

Prohibited  degrees  of  kin ; 

And  therefore  no  true  Saint  allows  1295 

They  shall  be  suffer'd  to  espouse ; 

For  Saints  can  need  no  conscience 

That  with  morality  dispense  ; 

As  virtue  's  impious  when  'tis  rooted 

In  nature  only,  and  not  imputed :  isoo 

But  why  the  Wicked  should  do  so 

We  neither  know,  nor  care  to  do. 

What  's  liberty  of  conscience, 
r  th'  natural  and  genuine  sense?  — 
'Tis  to  restore  with  more  security  1305 

Rebellion  to  its  ancient  purity ; 
And  Christian  liberty  reduce 
To  th'  elder  practice  of  the  Jews : 
For  a  large  conscience  is  all  one 
And  signifies  the  same  Avith  none.  13  lo 

It  is  enough  (quoth  he)  for  once, 
And  has  repriev'd  thy  forfeit  bones  : 
Nick  Machiavel  had  ne'er  a  trick 
(Though  he  gave  his  name  to  our  Old  Nick) 
But  was  below  the  least  of  these  1315 

That  pass  i'  th'  world  for  holmess. 
This  said,  the  Furies  and  the  light 
Li  th'  instant  vanish'd  out  of  sight, 
Aiid  left  him  in  the  dark  alone, 
With  stinks  of  brimstone  and  his  own.  1320 

The  Queen  of  Night,  whose  large  command 
Rules  all  the  sea  and  half  the  land. 


304  HUDIBRAS. 

And  over  moist  and  crazy  brains, 

In  high  spring-tides,  at  midnight  reigns, 

Was  now  declining  to  the  west,  1325 

To  go  to  bed  and  take  her  rest ; 

When  Hudibras,  whose  stubborn  blows 

Deny'd  his  bones  that  soft  repose. 

Lay  still,  expecting  worse  and  more, 

Stretch'd  out  at  length  upon  the  floor ;  1330 

And,  though  he  shut  his  eyes  as  fast 

As  if  h'  had  been  to  sleep  his  last, 

Saw  all  the  shapes  that  fear  or  wizards 

Do  make  the  devil  wear  for  vizards, 

And,  pricking  up  his  ears  to  hark  1333 

If  he  could  hear  too  in  the  dark, 

Was  first  invaded  with  a  groan, 

And  after,  in  a  feeble  tone, 

These  trembling  words  :  Unhappy  wretch  ! 

What  hast  thou  gotten  by  this  fetch,  isio 

Or  all  thy  tricks,  in  this  new  trade. 

Thy  holy  Brotherhood  o'  th'  blade  ? 

By  saunt'ring  still  on  some  adventure, 

And  growing  to  thy  horse  a  Centaur  ? 

To  stuff  thy  skin  with  swelling  knobs  13 15 

Of  cruel  and  hard-wooded  drubs  ? 

For  still  th'  hast  had  the  worst  on  't  yet. 

As  well  in  conquest  as  defeat. 

Night  is  the  sabbath  of  mankind. 

To  rest  the  body  and  the  mind,  isoo 

Wliich  now  thou  art  deny'd  to  keep, 

And  cure  thy  labour'd  corpse  with  sleep. 


PAKT    III.       CANTO    I.  305 

The  Kniglit,  who  heard  the  words,  explain'd 
As  meant  to  him  this  reprimand, 
Because  the  character  did  hit  1355 

Point-blank  upon  his  case  so  fit ; 
Believ'd  it  was  some  drolling  spright 
That  stay'd  upon  the  guard  that  night, 
And  one  of  those  h'  had  seen,  and  felt 
The  drubs  he  had  so  freely  dealt ;  iseo 

Wlien,  after  a  short  pause  and  groan, 
The  doleful  Spirit  thus  went  on : 

This  'tis  t'  engage  with  Dogs  and  Bears 
Pell-mell  together  by  the  ears, 
And,  after  painful  bangs  and  knocks,  i365 

To  lie  in  limbo  in  the  stocks. 
And  from  the  pinnacle  of  glory 
Fall  headlong  into  purgatory  — 

(Thought  he,  This  devil  's  full  of  malice, 
That  on  my  late  disaster  rallies ;)  —  1370 

Condemn'd  to  whipping,  but  dechn'd  it, 
By  being  more  heroic-mmded ; 
And  at  a  riding  handled  worse. 
With  treats  more  slovenly  and  coarse  ; 
Engag'd  with  fiends  in  stubborn  wars,  1375 

And  hot  disputes  with  conjurers ; 
And,  when  th'  hadst  bravely  won  the  day, 
Wast  fain  to  steal  thyself  away  — 

(I  see,  thought  he,  this  shameless  elf 
Would  fain  steal  me  too  from  myself,  laso 

That  impudently  dares  to  own 
What  I  have  snffer'd  for  and  done)  — 


306  HUDIBRAS. 

And  now,  but  vent'ring  to  betray, 
Hast  met  with,  vengeance  the  same  way. 

Thought  he,  How  does  the  devil  know  isss 

What  'twas  that  I  design'd  to  do  ? 
His  office  of  intelligence, 
His  oracles  are  ceas'd  long  since ; 
And  he  knows  nothing  of  the  Saints, 
But  what  some  treach'rous  spy  acquaints.  1390 

This  is  some  pettifogging  fiend. 
Some  under  door-keeper's  friend's  friend. 
That  undertakes  to  understand. 
And  juggles  at  the  second-hand, 
And  now  would  pass  for  Spix-it  Po,  1395 

And  all  men's  dark  concerns  foreknow. 
I  thiak  I  need  not  fear  him  for  't ; 
These  rallymg  devils  do  no  hurt. 
With  that  he  rous'd  his  drooping  heart, 
And  hastily  cry'd  out,  What  art  ?  moo 

A  wretch  (quoth  he)  whom  want  of  grace 
Has  brought  to  this  unhappy  place.  — • 
I  do  believe  thee,  quoth  the  Knight ; 
Thus  far  I  'm  sure  thou  'rt  in  the  right, 
And  know  what  'tis  that  troubles  thee  140,5 

Better  than  thou  hast  guess'd  of  me. 
Thou  art  some  paltry  blackguard  spright, 
Condemn'd  to  drudg'ry  in  the  night; 
Thou  hast  no  work  to  do  in  th'  house, 
Nor  halfpenny  to  drop  in  shoes;  i4io 

Without  the  raising  of  which  sum 
You  dare  not  be  so  troublesome. 


PART   III.      CANTO    I.  307 

To  pincli  the  slatterns  black  and  blue, 

For  leaving  you  their  work  to  do. 

This  is  your  bus'ness,  good  Pug-Robin,  uio 

And  your  diversion  dull  dry  bobbing, 

T'  entice  fanatics  in  the  dirt, 

And  wash  'em  clean  in  ditches  for  't ; 

Of  which  conceit  you  are  so  proud. 

At  ev'ry  jest  you  laugh  aloud,  1420 

As  now  you  would  have  done  by  me, 

But  that  I  barr'd  your  raillery. 

Sir  (quoth  the  Voice),  y'  are  no  such  sophi 
As  you  would  have  the  world  judge  of  ye. 
If  you  design  to  weigh  our  talents  1425 

r  th'  standard  of  your  own  false  balance, 
Or  think  it  possible  to  know 
Us  ghosts,  as  well  as  we  do  you, 
"We  who  have  been  the  everlasting 
Companions  of  your  drubs  and  basting,  1430 

And  never  left  you  in  contest, 
With  male  or  female,  man  or  beast, 
But  prov'd  as  true  t'  ye,  and  entire. 
In  all  adventures  as  your  Squire. 

Quoth  he.  That  may  be  said  as  true  1455 

By  th'  idlest  pug  of  all  your  crew  : 
For  none  could  have  betray'd  us  worse 
Than  those  allies  of  ours  and  yours. 
But  I  have  sent  him  for  a  token 
To  your  low  country  Hogen-Mogen,  U40 

To  whose  infernal  shores  I  hope 
He  '11  swing  hke  skippers  in  a  rope  : 


308  HUDIBRAS. 

And  if  y'  liave  been  more  just  to  me 

(As  1  am  apt  to  think)  than  he, 

I  am  afraid  it  is  as  true  1445 

What  th'  ill-affected  say  of  you ; 

Ye  've  'spous'd  the  Covenant  and  Cause, 

By  holding  up  your  cloven  paws. 

Sir  (quoth  the  Voice),  'tis  true,  I  grant, 
We  made  and  took  the  Covenant ;  1450 

But  that  no  more  concerns  the  Cause, 
Than  other  perj'ries  do  the  laws, 
Wliich,  when  they  're  prov'd  in  open  court, 
Wear  wooden  peccadilloes  for  't : 
And  that  's  the  reason  Cov'nanters  1455 

Hold  up  their  hands  like  rogues  at  bars. 

I  see  (quoth  Hudibras)  from  whence 
These  scandals  of  the  Saints  commence, 
That  are  but  natural  effects 

Of  Satan's  malice  and  his  sects,  ueo 

Those  spider-saints  that  hang  by  threads 
Spun  out  o'  th'  entrails  of  their  heads. 

Sir  (quoth  the  Voice),  that  may  as  true 
And  properly  be  said  of  you, 
Whose  talents  may  compare  with  either,  i46o 

Or  both  the  other  put  together : 
For  all  the  Independents  do 
Is  only  what  you  forc'd  'em  to ; 
You,  who  are  not  content  alone 
With  tricks  to  put  the  devil  down,  U70 

But  must  have  armies  rais'd  to  back 
The  gospel-work  you  undertake  ; 


PART    III.       CANTO    I.  309 

As  if  artillery  and  edge-tools 

Were  th'  only  engines  to  save  souls : 

While  he,  poor  devil,  has  no  pow'r  1475 

By  force  to  run  down  and  devour ; 

Has  ne'er  a  Classis,  cannot  sentence 

To  stools,  or  poundage  of  repentance  ; 

Is  ty'd  up  only  to  design 

T'  entice  and  tempt  and  undermine  :  i460 

In  which  you  all  his  arts  outdo, 

And  prove  yourselves  his  betters  too. 

Hence  'tis  possessions  do  less  evil 

Than  mere  temptations  of  the  devil, 

Which  all  the  horrid'st  actions  done  i485 

Are  charg'd  in  courts  of  law  upon ; 

Because,  unless  they  help  the  elf, 

He  can  do  little  of  himself ; 

And  therefore  where  he  's  best  possest 

Acts  most  against  his  interest ;  i49e 

Surprises  none  but  those  who  've  priests 

To  turn  him  out,  and  exorcists, 

Supply'd  with  spiritual  provision. 

And  magazines  of  ammunition  ; 

With  crosses,  relics,  crucifixes,  usa 

Beads,  pictures,  rosaries,  and  pixes  ; 

The  tools  of  Avorking  out  salvation 

By  mere  mechanic  operation  : 

With  holy  water,  hke  a  sluice. 

To  overflow  all  avenues  :  isoy 

But  those  who  're  utterly  unarm'd, 

T'  oppose  his  entrance  if  he  storm'd. 


310  HUDIBRAS. 

He  never  offers  to  surprise,  • 

Although  his  falsest  enemies ; 

But  is  content  to  be  their  drudge,  isos 

And  on  their  errands  glad  to  trudge : 

For  where  are  all  your  forfeitures 

Intrusted  in  safe  hands,  but  ours  ? 

Who  are  but  jailors  of  the  holes 

And  dungeons  where  you  clap  up  souls ;  isio 

Like  under-keepers,  turn  the  keys 

T'  your  mittimus  anathemas, 

And  never  boggle  to  restore 

The  members  you  deliver  o'er. 

Upon  demand,  with  fairer  justice  isis 

Than  all  your  covenanting  Trustees  ; 

Unless,  to  punish  them  the  worse, 

You  put  them  in  the  secular  pow'rs, 

And  pass  their  souls,  as  some  demise 

The  same  estate  in  mortgage  twice  ;  1520 

When  to  a  legal  utlegation 

You  turn  your  excommunication. 

And  for  a  groat  un2:)aid  that  's  due, 

Distrain  on  soul  and  body  too. 

Thought  he,  'Tis  no  mean  part  of  civil         1525 
State-prudenee  to  cajole  the  devil. 
And  not  to  handle  him  too  rough. 
When  h'  has  us  in  his  cloven  hoof. 

'Tis  true  (quoth  he),  that  intercourse 
Has  pass'd  between  your  friends  and  ours,       1530 
That,  as  you  trust  us,  in  our  way, 
To  raise  your  members  and  to  lay, 


PART    Iir.       CANTO    I.  311 

We  send  you  others  of  our  own, 

Denounc'd  to  hang  themselves  or  drown, 

Or,  frighted  with  our  oratory,  1635 

To  leap  down  headlong  many  a  story ; 

Have  us'd  all  means  to  propagate 

Your  mighty  interests  of  state, 

Laid  out  our  sp'ritual  gifts  to  further 

Your  great  designs  of  rage  and  murther :  1540 

For  if  the  Saints  are  nam'd  from  blood, 

We  only  've  made  that  title  good  ; 

And,  if  it  were  but  in  our  power. 

We  should  not  scruple  to  do  more. 

And  not  be  half  a  soul  behind  1545 

Of  all  Dissenters  of  mankind. 

Right  (quoth  the  Voice),  and,  as  I  scorn 
To  be  ungrateful,  in  return 
Of  all  those  kind  good  offices, 
I  '11  free  you  out  of  this  distress,  1.550 

And  set  you  down  in  safety,  where 
It  is  no  time  to  tell  you  here. 
The  cock  crows,  and  the  morn  draws  on, 
When  'tis  decreed  I  must  be  gone ; 
And  if  I  leave  you  here  till  day,  155a 

You  '11  find  it  hard  to  get  away. 
With  that  the  Spirit  grop'd  about 
To  find  th'  inchanted  hero  out. 
And  try'd  with  haste  to  lift  him  up, 
But  found  his  forlorn  hope,  his  crup,  i56o 

Unserviceable  with  kicks  and  blows 
Receiv'd  from  harden'd  hearted  foes. 


512  HUDIBRAS. 

He  thought  to  drag  him  by  the  heels, 

Like  Gresham-carts  with  legs  for  wheels  ; 

But  fear,  that  soonest  cures  those  sores,  1666 

In  danger  of  relapse  to  worse. 

Came  in  t'  assist  him  with  his  aid, 

And  up  his  sinking  vessel  weigh'd. 

No  sooner  was  he  fit  to  trudge. 

But  both  made  ready  to  dislodge ;  1570 

The  Spirit  hors'd  him  like  a  sack, 

Upon  the  vehicle  his  back. 

And  bore  him  headlong  into  th'  hall, 

With  some  few  rubs  against  the  wall ; 

Where,  finding  out  the  postern  lock'd,  1575 

And  th'  avenues  as  strongly  block'd, 

H'  attack'd  the  window,  storm'd  the  glass. 

And  in  a  moment  gain'd  the  pass  ; 

Through  which  he  dragg'd  the  worsted  soldier's 

Fore-quarters  out  by  th'  head  and  shoulders,    1530 

And  cautiously  began  to  scout 

To  find  their  fellow-cattle  out ; 

Nor  was  it  half  a  minute's  quest 

Ere  he  retriev'd  the  champion's  beast, 

Tj'd  to  a  pale,  instead  of  rack,  1585 

But  ne'er  a  saddle  on  his  back. 

Nor  pistols  at  the  saddle  bow, 

Convey'd  away,  the  Lord  knows  how. 

He  thought  it  was  no  time  to  stay. 

And  let  the  night  too  steal  away  ;  1590 

V.  1575.    Var.  '  th'  outer  postern.' 


PART   III.      CANTO   I.  313 

But  in  a  trice  advanc'd  the  Knight 

Upon  the  bare  ridge,  bolt  upriglit, 

And,  groping  out  for  Ralpho's  jade, 

He  found  the  saddle  too  was  stray'd, 

And  in  the  place  a  lump  of  soap,  '    1595 

On  which  he  speedily  leap'd  up  ; 

And,  turning  to  the  gate  the  rein, 

He  kick'd  and  cudgel'd  on  amain ; 

While  Hudibras  with  equal  haste 

On  both  sides  laid  about  as  fast,  leoo 

And  spurr'd,  as  jockeys  use  to  break. 

Or  padders  to  secure,  a  neck : 

"Where  let  us  leave  'em  for  a  time. 

And  to  their  Churches  turn  our  rhyme  • 

To  hold  forth  their  declining  state,  i605 

Wliich  now  come  near  an  even  rate. 


END    OF   VOL.   I. 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California,  San  Diego 

DATE  DUE 

NOVl  91980 

OCT  3  G  1980 

a  39 

UCSD  Libr, 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

II  I  1 1 


AA      000  264  070    4 


